


A Sprinkle of Cocoa Powder

by houdini74



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bookstore, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Baking, Blow Jobs, Falling In Love, Hand Jobs, M/M, Patrick deserves a best friend, Rachel is a good friend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2019-11-07
Packaged: 2021-01-21 07:07:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 28,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21295496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/houdini74/pseuds/houdini74
Summary: Patrick owns a coffee shop. David opens a bookstore across the street. You'll never guess what happens next!
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 389
Kudos: 617





	1. Lemon Lavender Muffins

**Author's Note:**

> I really wanted to write a story where Patrick and Rachel are best friends because a) Patrick deserves to have a best friend and b) it's really hard to write Patrick's POV without giving him someone to confide in. So, this is that story. 
> 
> All of the chapters are done, I'll post one per day.

The banner catches Patrick’s eye when he comes downstairs to open the cafe in the morning. It’s impossible to miss, bright red with the words **CLOSING SALE 50% OFF** in giant white letters as it hangs on the storefront across the street.

He grimaces to himself when he reads it. Store closures have been happening more and more in this neighbourhood and Ray, the owner, has become a good friend. Still, toys are harder to sell than coffee so perhaps it won’t mean anything for his and Rachel’s business. Hopefully, a new owner will snap up the space quickly so it doesn’t sit empty. And so that their customers will pop across the street for a cup of coffee.

He gets ready for the day, turning on the coffee makers for the drip coffee, arranging the supplies at the espresso machine and bringing last night’s baking out from the kitchen into the front of the shop. He’s just putting the last of the scones into the glass display case when the back door opens. 

“Morning, Patrick.” Rachel pokes her head around the kitchen door and gives him a wave.

“Hi Rach.” She disappears into the kitchen and he can hear her prepping for the breakfast rush. They don’t offer an extensive menu, just breakfast wraps and baking, but Rachel will be busy for the next couple of hours staying on top of the orders.

He’s a few minutes ahead of schedule, they aren’t scheduled to open for another five minutes so he goes back to the kitchen and leans against the doorframe.

“Did you see that Ray is closing the toy shop?”

Rachel is chopping peppers and green onions, on the stove behind her scrambled eggs and bacon are cooking. “Mmm hmm. He came in yesterday. He says everyone wants to buy things online. And he wants more time to focus on his real estate business.”

“I hope it doesn’t sit empty.”

Rachel looks up at him, her knife stops moving. “It’s sold already. Someone who wants to open a bookstore.”

“Speaking of things that people want to buy online.” A bookstore would be a good addition to the neighborhood, any store that encourages people to linger and browse will increase business for everyone. 

“It could be a good fit for us. Maybe there’s an opportunity to work together?”

“Hmm. Maybe. Like a joint coupon?”

“Or space for a book club?”

“Yeah.” He looks at her thoughtfully, pursing his lips. He checks the time, it’s right on seven o’clock so he unlocks the front door, ushering in their early morning regulars. 

They’re busy for the next couple of hours. He makes coffee and sells muffins and cookies while Rachel works in the kitchen making breakfast wraps and prepping for lunch. There’s always a lull around nine thirty and he pours two cups of coffee, one for himself and one for Rachel. He restocks the bakery case as she sits on one of the bar stools at the end of the counter, taking a break before the next rush. 

The front door opens, revealing a man Patrick’s never seen before. His black sweater is broken by a series of horizontal lines that run up the middle and his inky black hair adds a couple of inches to his height. Thick dark eyebrows peek out from beneath his white-framed sunglasses. He comes into the cafe as though he wants to be noticed, but his show of confidence is undermined by the way he’s twisting the silver rings on his right hand. 

The man removes his sunglasses, uncovering a pair of dark eyes that fasten themselves to Patrick. “Um...can I get a caramel macchiato, skim, two sweeteners, and a sprinkle of cocoa powder?”

“Just a sprinkle?” He rarely teases first-time customers but something about this man brings it out in him. 

“Yes, mmm hmm.” The man gives Patrick a flat stare, but the corners of his mouth twitch, a movement so slight Patrick might have imagined it if his eyes weren’t welded to his lips.

“Is that more or less than a pinch?” Patrick wonders how far will he have to go to get the other man to smile. Oh, he realizes. He’s flirting with this stranger. His stomach flutters. 

The man levels a look at him, but there’s a spark in his eyes. “Just a bit less.”

“And can I get a name for your order?” There’s no one else in the cafe, it’s pure curiosity on his part. At the end of the counter, Rachel smothers a laugh. He shoots her a glare and she smiles back at him gleefully. 

The man looks back at him, eyebrows raised and lips turned down in a smirk. “Are you going to forget what I ordered?”

“Store policy.” He utters the lie as blandly as possible, pulling out the marker he uses when things get busy.

The man grins, seeing through him. “David Rose. Here, give me that in case you spell it wrong.”

As David says his name, Patrick is catapulted back to his first job at Rose Video and the annual Christmas cards from the Rose family. David always scowled at the camera, his arms crossed as stood beside his patents and his sister. There’s a vague, more recent memory of a tabloid story, something about nude photographs, but Patrick is too distracted by the man in front of him to chase down the thought. 

David taps his fingers impatiently on the counter and Patrick hands over the cup and the marker. With a few quick stokes, David writes on the side of the cup, handing it back to him, the black block letters are clear against the pale blue cup: **David Rose 212-978-0923**. He raises his eyes to meet David’s. David smirks back at him and for a second he’s tempted to fill up the cup and give it back to him. Something in David’s eyes makes him flush and he swallows roughly, setting the cup to one side and reaching for a new one.

“I’ll take a raspberry scone as well.”

“That’s eight dollars.”

David taps his card and Patrick preps the coffee, putting a spoonful of his homemade caramel sauce in the bottom of the cup. David wanders over to the far side of the room, looking at the new photographs they’ve just put up from a local artist. Patrick studies him over the top of the espresso machine, the bulky sweater and skirted pants hide most of David’s body but Patrick can see the line of his shoulders and the arch of his neck. His mouth is dry as he thinks about what might be underneath David’s heavy clothes. When the coffee is ready, he tops the cup with the requested sprinkle of cocoa powder and pops on the lid. Patrick sets the coffee and the scone beside the till.

“David Rose?” He calls out the name the way he would if there were twenty people waiting. David turns from the photographs and his dark eyes meet Patrick’s, a smirk curling on his lips. He takes the cup and the paper bag with the scone. 

“Thanks.”

“It was nice to meet you, David.”

With a nod to Patrick, smirk sitting on his face like he doesn’t have any other expression, David turns and leaves.

Patrick picks up his coffee and the paper cup with David’s number on it and walks to the end of the counter to where Rachel is sitting.

“Smooth.” Rachel laughs at him over the rim of her coffee cup.

“Hey, it worked.” He can’t quite believe David gave him his number. 

“So, are you gonna call him?”

“I...maybe?” His voice squeaks on the last word and Rachel lowers her cup, her head tilted to one side.

“Patrick. If you want to date guys, you might have to call one sometime.”

He knows she’s right, but he can’t help but protest. “I went out with that guy two weeks ago.”

“You left in the middle of dinner because you didn’t like his shoes!” Rachel sets her coffee cup sharply on the counter.

“I know.” He fiddles with the paper cup, spinning it around in his hands. “It’s not like I was good at dating women either. You and I were together for fifteen years, I haven’t exactly asked out a lot of other people.”

“Give me your phone.”

“I...what?”

“Give it to me.” She holds out her hand until he puts his phone into it. She grabs the cup and enters David’s name and number into his contact list. 

“There. Now you won’t have an excuse when you’re sitting at home tonight.”

He scowls at her and sets the paper coffee cup with David’s number on it under the counter as the bell on the door rings and the mid-morning rush begins. 

The constant flow of customers keeps him too busy to think about his interaction with David. Twyla, the university student who helps them out during the busiest part of the day arrives at ten o’clock and the three of them get lost in a stream of coffee and sandwich orders. By two o’clock the rush has decreased to a trickle and he and Rachel switch places.

In the kitchen, he pulls up the recipes for chocolate chip muffins and the raspberry scones. Both items sell out every day and their regulars will complain if they aren’t there in the morning. He starts the muffins first, putting them in the oven so he can mix the dough for the scones. Once they’re baking in the oven, he scrolls through the recipes he’s saved on his phone, looking for something new. 

His mind wanders to that morning’s conversation with David. He could just flip over to his contact list and send him a quick text. It’s what most people would do; people who were used to asking out good-looking, dark-haired men in striking black and white sweaters. He’s not most people. He’s someone who spent fifteen years in a relationship with his female best friend before finally admitting that he’d rather be dating men.

He scrolls past dozens of recipes without even seeing them. With a sigh, he opens his contact list and looks at David’s number. He’s about to tap the button to send a text when there’s a loud beep and he jumps, nearly dropping his phone on the counter. The muffins are done.

He pops the first batch of muffins out of the pans and sets them on the racks to cool. There’s a recipe for lemon and lavender muffins that he wants to try so he gathers the ingredients instead of texting David. He bought lemons on Monday and there’s fresh lavender and other herbs growing in pots on the windowsill. The lavender has just started blooming, so he harvests a few flowers, inhaling the rich scent as he turns back to the kitchen island.

There’s something sensual about the scent of the lavender that makes him think of David. Of the way his mouth quirks up at the corners and the hot spark in his eyes. The fullness of his lips and how they would look as they close around a muffin, David’s eyes drifting shut as he savors the flavor. The way David’s mouth might feel against his lips, on the arch of his neck, brushing down his chest to… “Patrick?” 

Rachel is standing in the doorway. He puts down the handful of lavender. He’s been standing, lost in thought for several minutes. “Yeah?” His voice is hoarser than it should be.

Rachel raises an eyebrow but doesn’t comment. “I’ve closed up the front. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He checks the time, it’s after five. “Thanks Rach.” 

“And Patrick? That guy today? You should call him.”

He wants to call David. So badly. He picks up his phone but he can’t quite bring himself to tap on David’s name. With a sigh, he puts down the phone and takes the finished muffins out of the oven. “Tomorrow.”

***

The next day, he pushes thoughts of David to the back of his mind. Mostly. As it gets closer to nine-thirty he glances at the door more often, looking up whenever it opens, just in case. David probably won’t be back today, he’s never been in before. Most likely he was just passing through the neighbourhood. If he wants to see David again, he might have to call him. Patrick’s stomach knots up at the thought.

Patrick looks up for what feels like the hundredth time in the last ten minutes to see David finally coming into the coffee shop. Today he’s wearing a white sweater that’s covered in a series of disjointed vertical black lines. Once again, he’s the only customer. Patrick smiles when he sees him, nervous energy fluttering inside him.

“Hi. Can I get a caramel macchiato, skim, two sweeteners and…”

“...and a sprinkle of cocoa powder?” He can’t stop himself from teasing David.

“You never called me.” Dark brown eyes meet his, sharp and hot. He wants to sink into them. 

“And yet, here you are.” It’s a reflex, an innate need to push back as though a sixth sense is telling him that David won’t want someone who’s too nice.

“Patrick, I’m going to run to the market before the lunch rush…” Rachel sticks her head out from the kitchen.

“No problem, Twyla will be here soon.” 

Rachel raises her eyebrows when she sees David. “Ask him out.” She mouths the words so David won’t notice.

He preps David’s order, mixing the caramel sauce and the espresso into a rich froth. Before he can think it through, he picks up the felt marker and writes **Patrick Brewer 212-452-5129** on a cardboard sleeve, sliding it onto the cup so David can see it. Popping on a plastic lid, he slides his drink and one of his new lemon and lavender muffins across the counter to David.

“I didn’t order a muffin.” David pushes the muffin back towards him.

“On the house, it’s a new recipe, you can tell me what you think when you come back.” He can smell the lemon and lavender, the scent casts him back to the night before, his eyes drifting back to David’s lips. An image of David’s mouth skimming across his skin flashes through his mind, making him flush.

David smirks at him as though he knows what he’s thinking. “That assumes I’m coming back.”

“Yeah. It does.” He stretches out the space between the words, letting them settle into the silence. He tilts his chin and David smirks in response, his dimples flashing. David hasn’t mentioned the phone number. Patrick runs a hand through his hair and looks down at the counter.

“I might come back for other reasons.” He raises his eyes to David’s. He’s smiling faintly, the corners of his mouth turned up just the smallest amount. When their eyes meet, Patrick can feel the heat of his gaze. David takes a sip of the coffee and his smile deepens. He gathers up the bag with the muffin. “I’ll be sure to leave a full review.” 

A group of young women come into the cafe and David steps back from the counter to let them order. Patrick prepares the lattes and mochaccinos that they’ve ordered and when he looks up David has gone. 

He’s in between orders when his phone buzzes in his pocket. When he pulls it out, there’s a text from David. He opens it to find a photo of an empty muffin wrapper.

**David:** That was very good.

He hears the back door thump open as Rachel returns from the market carrying a collection of canvas grocery bags. She disappears into the kitchen to set the bags on the counter. “Did you ask him out?” 

“Hello to you too.” He follows her into the kitchen, pulling open one of the bags and putting items into the fridge and cupboards.

As expected, Rachel turns to him, her hands on her hips. “Did you?”

“Not exactly.” He longs to tell her everything. How his banter with David seems so easy and natural. How brave and proud he’d felt when he’d written his number on David’s cup. How he’s scared, deep down inside.

“What does that mean?”

“I gave him a muffin and ....my number.” A smile slips over his face before he can stop it.

“And?” She knows him too well and she can tell he’s holding something back.

“And he texted me.” 

“Patrick!” She swats him on the arm and he grins back at her. Since his coming out officially ended their engagement a year ago, their friendship has evolved into something more relaxed, more supportive than they ever had while they were trying and failing to make their romantic relationship work. 

“It’s just one text, it might not mean anything.” He doesn’t want to get his hopes up. He already has his hopes up. The thought of seeing David again makes his insides twist with anticipation.

“I just hope you like his shoes.”

“Okay.” He tries to look annoyed but he’s too happy about the text from David to pull it off. He and Rachel finish putting the groceries away and he joins Twyla behind the counter. A few customers are trickling in but it’s not so busy that Twyla can’t manage for a couple of minutes. He pulls out his phone and opens David’s text.

There’s a recipe for candied ginger pecan scones that he’s planning to try this afternoon. He snaps a screenshot of the recipe and texts it back to David. 

**Patrick:** You can review these tomorrow 

He can see David received the message but there’s no response. He smiles to himself, hoping that means he’ll see David at the usual time in the morning.

After the lunch rush he busies himself with the scones, cutting the butter into the flour mixture before adding the cream, molasses and vanilla. He kneads in the candied ginger and pecans, their aromas mingle with the richness of the molasses. He works the dough into a circle, cutting out the wedge-shaped scones with his pastry cutter. Once the scones are in the oven, he mixes a quick glaze with icing sugar, molasses and cream.

He reminds himself to take a scone to Ray before the end of the day. Today is his last day at the toy shop and he’ll miss having him across the street.

He gets into a rhythm, pulling the scones out of the oven, mixing muffins, glazing the cooled scones. When the countertop is filled with baking he finally checks the time, it’s a quarter to five, he’ll have to hurry if he wants to take something to Ray before he closes. He pops one of the new scones into a paper bag and leaves the others to cool.

Out front, Rachel is cleaning the espresso machine. She gives him a distracted nod when he tells her where he’s going.

When he opens the door of the toy shop, he can hear Ray talking to someone in the back. The shelves of the shop are nearly empty, Ray has clustered the remaining toys together and a stuffed bear leans sadly against a wooden train. Without thinking, he reached out to touch the bear on the nose, as though he’s trying to comfort it. At the sound of the bell, Ray peers around the doorway to his office at the back of the store.

“Patrick!” As always, Ray greets him exuberantly. Patrick wonders if he ever has bad days.

“Hi Ray. I brought you a scone since this might be my last chance.”

“Thank you, that’s very kind.” Patrick hands him the bag and Ray opens it and peeks inside. “C’mon back, there’s someone I want you to meet.” Patrick follows Ray around the counter into his office. A familiar black-and-white clad figure is sitting at a small table. 

Ray gestures to the seated figure with both hands. “Patrick, this is…”

“David Rose.” Patrick finishes the sentence for Ray and blushes when David looks up at him, the familiar smirk on his lips.

“Um...yes. David bought the store.” Ray looks back and forth between them, trying to decipher what’s not being said. “David plans to open a bookstore. Which, in this retail climate, is a daring venture.” 

“Yes, we’ve met.” There’s a long awkward pause as he and David stare at each other. 

“David was saying how much he enjoyed the muffin you gave him this morning.” Ray turns to David. “Didn’t you say it melted in your mouth?” 

“Did it?” He can’t tear his eyes from the fullness of David’s mouth. “If I’d known you were going to be here, I would have brought you a scone. To see how that feels in your mouth.” The words are out of his mouth before he can take them back. He blushes, his cheeks hot and red. He glances at Ray, who is staring at them both happily.

“I’ll just have to wait until tomorrow to find out how it...feels.” David licks his lips and he thinks his heart might stop. 

“Yeah.” He clears his throat, trying to maintain some semblance of control. 

“I should get back to help Rachel close up.” Out of the corner of his eye, he sees David frown. He turns to Ray. “Don’t forget to stop by once in a while, there’s free coffee and scones whenever you come for a visit.”

“Thank you, Patrick. Although I’m sure I won’t have much free time what with the expansion of my real estate and closet organization business.”

“I’ll see you around, David.” His voice is rougher than he expects and David smiles at him.

“Tomorrow.” David’s promise sends a shiver down his back. He glances back as he’s leaving. David’s eyes are following him, dark and intense.

The baking has fully cooled when he gets back to the cafe. He drizzles the last batch of scones with icing and packs everything away for the morning. Once the kitchen is clean, he goes back out front. Rachel is sitting in her usual spot at the counter finishing one of the leftover blueberry muffins. He sinks into the seat beside her.

“Is Ray okay?” 

He laughs. “More than okay. He’s very excited about real estate now. And closet organization.”

“Of course.” He and Rachel share a smile. In the time since they bought the coffee shop five years ago, Ray has launched multiple businesses. The toy store has lasted the longest, but only because he’d had to invest in inventory. “Did he say anything about the new owner?”

“Um…” He looks down and steals a chunk of her muffin.

“Patrick?” She stares at him until he meets her eyes.

“Funny thing. The guy who’s been in the past two mornings? The one who texted me? He’s the new owner.” He’s speaking quickly and his voice is higher than usual, apprehension and excitement leaking out of him in equal measure. Apprehension wins and he dabs at some muffin crumbs on the counter with his fingertip, dusting them onto Rachel’s empty plate. He glances sideways to see an enormous smile spreading across her face.

“Well. I guess you won’t have anywhere to hide this time.”

He shakes his head and pretends to be annoyed. “Why did we stay friends again?”

Rachel laughs and kisses him on the cheek. “Because no one knows you like I do.” She gets up and puts the plate into the tub they have for dirty dishes and grabs her coat from the hook behind the kitchen door. “You’re okay to close up?”

“Yeah. See you tomorrow.” She leaves through the front door, locking it behind her. Across the street the lights of the toy shop are still on, burning into the darkness. His thoughts slip to David. He’s been trying not to think of him all day, but discovering that David had bought the store changes things. It’s probably a bad idea to get involved with another business owner. If it goes badly, it could hurt the whole neighbourhood. The ongoing feud between Ronnie from the kitchen store and Roland from the souvenir shop already makes their business association meetings awkward enough.

Rachel would say that he’s making excuses. He gets up and makes himself a cup of tea, leaning against the counter while he waits for the water to come to a boil. She’s probably right, although not for the reasons she thinks. He hates the uncertainty of dating, the ungainly dance of wondering if the other person feels the same way. In grade 10 he’d only asked Rachel out after her friend Kristy had slipped him a note in class. ‘Rachel, do you like Patrick?’ The box for yes had been checked in purple ink and the decision had been clear and easy. 

He pours the hot water over the tea bag, wrapping his hands around the mug while it steeps. His phone buzzes on the counter, jolting him out of his thoughts.

**David:** I meant to say thank you. Before. For the muffin.

Patrick stares at the message, a smile creasing the corners of his mouth.

**Patrick:** So are you actually thanking me, or just saying that you meant to?

David doesn’t respond right away and he worries that he’s overstepped. At last, the three little dots appear below his message.

**David:** My desire to thank you is rapidly decreasing.

**Patrick:** I’m sorry, David. You can thank me if you want to.

**David:** I don’t think I want to anymore.

He smothers a laugh. Before he can respond, David texts him again.

**David:** Goodnight Patrick


	2. Coconut and Lime Scones

Thursdays are when their weekly shipment of coffee beans is delivered. Patrick is up early, rearranging their stockroom so that there is space for the newer beans at the back. Rachel arrives as he’s moving the last of the fifty pound bags into place. “How does it look?”

He does their sales projections at the end of every month, but the weekly coffee bean inventory gives him an informal tally of how their sales are going. “Good. We might need to start ordering an extra bag.” 

“At least people are still buying coffee.” Rachel grins at him and she disappears into the kitchen. He can hear the fridge door opening and closing as she pulls out the eggs and other ingredients for the morning rush. 

Once again he finds himself looking at the clock as the morning progresses. Now that he knows that David is working right across the street, there’s no reason to pretend that he won’t be in for coffee. 

Rachel is still prepping for lunch when a woman with long dark hair comes up to the counter. She’s wearing a plaid shirt and carrying an olive green shoulder bag. “I’ll have a medium coffee and…” She pulls a slip of paper out of her pocket and reads from it. “...a caramel macchiato, skim, two sweeteners, and a sprinkle of cocoa powder.”

It’s David’s order. His heart sinks at the idea that David has decided not to come in for his own coffee this morning. The woman looks at him, her dark eyes are sharp. “Are you Patrick?” He nods as he preps the macchiato and pours the regular coffee out of the carafe on the counter. “David says hi.” She picks up the two cups of coffee and pushes her way out of the door. Patrick watches her cross the street to the bookshop.

It’s not until he sees her open the door across the street that he thinks he should have sent a message to David in return. He takes a nervous breath and pulls out his phone.

**Patrick: **Hi

He waits for a minute but there’s no response. Disappointed, he puts his phone away as the lunch rush starts and he loses himself in the onslaught of coffee and lunch orders. It’s almost two o’clock when he finally has time to check his phone again. There are eleven new messages from David.

**David: **Hi  
**David: **Sorry I couldn’t come in today  
**David: **They’re delivering all my new shelving and stock   
**David: **And the painters are coming  
**David: **It’s just a lot  
**David: **And I’m worried that I won’t be able to pull things together  
**David: **I was forced to sell my art gallery  
**David: **And I really need this store to succeed  
**David: **I don’t know why I’m telling you this  
**David: **You’re probably really busy  
**David: **Maybe you could just delete these texts and pretend you didn’t see them?

Patrick laughs when he sees the final message. 

**Patrick: **Too late, I’ve read them all

He’s smiling at his phone like an idiot when Rachel comes out of the kitchen to take her turn at the front counter. She raises her eyebrows at his expression. She opens her mouth to say something when his phone buzzes with another text.

**David: **Now I can never show my face in your coffee shop again

He chuckles at David’s dramatic response, Rachel is still watching him closely. 

“I...um…David...” He gestures towards the bookstore. He and Rachel have always shared everything. Even through his coming out and their breakup she’s been the one he confided in. But now that he and David might be on the verge of something, he wants to keep it for himself. Before those thoughts can get away from him, Rachel laughs and pats him on the shoulder. 

“Looks like things are going okay?”

“Mmm hmm.” He goes into the kitchen to start on the day’s baking. Before he pulls out the ingredients, he leans against the counter so he can text David back.

**Patrick: **Are you sure? Never is a long time  
**Patrick: **I do have coffee  
**Patrick: **And baking

He remembers that he’d promised David a scone. The pecan and ginger scones have sold out, so he opens a new recipe that he’s been wanting to try. He checks the cupboards, pulling out coconut and grabbing two limes from the fridge. After spreading the shredded coconut on a pan to go into the oven to toast, he zests the limes. Taking the butter out of the freezer, he grates it with the cheese grater, mixing it into the flour with his hands, rubbing the mixture together until the consistency is right. He adds the egg and cream and lime juice, forming the dough into a circle. The coconut is ready so he mixes it with the lime zest and some sugar and sprinkles it on top of the scones. A sharp, citrusy smell fills the kitchen as he puts them in the oven.

While he’s waiting, he goes through the familiar motions of mixing the dough for chocolate chip muffins and raspberry scones and they quickly follow the lime coconut scones into the oven. He checks his phone again while he waits for the first batch to bake but there’s no response from David. 

Rachel pops her head in the kitchen door as he’s pulling the last batch of muffins out of the oven. “I’ve locked the front door and I’m going to head out. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

He looks at the clock. It’s almost six o’clock. “Yeah. Rach…” He pauses. He wants to ask for advice or reassurance or something, but asking your ex-fiancee for advice about a guy you like seems like a step too far. “Have a good night.”

Rachel smiles at him. “You too. And Patrick?” She gives him a knowing look. “The lights are still on across the street.”

The back door slams shut behind her and silence descends over the shop, still and close. Before he can think it through, he puts two lime and coconut scones into a bag. From the front of the shop, he can see that Rachel was right, the lights are still on in David’s store. He steps outside, locking the cafe door behind him and hurrying towards the bookshop.

Light from the windows of the bookstore lances through the darkness, a warm beacon on the otherwise dark street. Through the glass door he can see David at the counter, cardboard boxes fill the store. The walls, which were a neutral beige when Ray owned the store have been repainted to a sharp white. It should feel stark and cold but it brings out the warmth of the espresso-colored wooden shelving. On the far side of the store, Patrick can see the woman who bought David’s coffee that morning unboxing books from a carton on the table in front of her. For a moment he hesitates in the shadow. What if he’s misinterpreted David’s flirting? He takes a deep breath and pushes open the door.

The bell on the door rings. It’s the same one that Ray had but he jumps at the sound. With all of David’s other changes he expects the door to open silently. Both David and the dark-haired woman look up at the intrusion and for a moment he stands, frozen in the light of the doorway, silhouetted against the darkness of the night.

“Um...hi.” He fiddles with the paper bag for a second, creasing the top with his fingers. “I saw your lights were on so I bought you some scones.” He glances at the woman for a second, but his eyes are drawn to David like he’s magnetic. David’s face lights up at the mention of the scones and he makes grabby motions for the bag. The woman approaches and Patrick looks at David, but his attention is focused on the bag of scones. It’s clear he won’t get an introduction. He holds out his hand. “I’m Patrick.”

“Stevie” She shakes his hand and he can feel her assessing him. At the counter, David is standing with his face buried in the bag, his eyes closed as he inhales the scent.

“Would you like some time alone with those?” He can’t stop the wisecrack from slipping out even as he glances at Stevie to see how she’ll respond to his mockery. A wide grin spreads across her face.

“We should probably give him a minute. I appreciate that you’ve rendered him speechless.”

“Okay.” David looks up with an annoyed twist to his lips. “This is very fun.”

“Then we’re all having a good time.” Stevie pulls the strap of her bag over her head. “Now that you’ve got company I’m going home.” The door closes behind her leaving Patrick and David staring at each other amidst the pile of boxes.

“I like the new look.” Patrick gestures at the store with its new paint and shelving. He wanders through the boxes, looking into some of the open cartons. A selection of bath products peek out of one and he pulls a bottle of lotion from the open box. “I thought this was a bookstore?”

“It is. But it’s also a lifestyle store. It’s an environment for people to explore their inner and outer beauty amidst a comforting yet elegant backdrop.” David’s hands flash as he explains his concept. The words don’t make any sense, but David is clearly committed to his vision for the space.

“Huh.” He can’t stop himself from grinning at David’s nonsensical answer.

“You don’t think it’s a good idea?” David puts the bag with the scones down on the counter where it disappears amidst the piles of books.

“It might be a good idea. If I understood what you just said.” Even though he doesn’t understand it, he thinks he could listen to David talk about his store all day.

“You didn’t get what I meant?” David puts his hands on his hips and glares at him. 

Patrick raises his eyebrows and shrugs. “It’s just a lot of buzzwords, David.” 

“You’ll just have to see what I mean when I open.” David huffs at him, indignant, and Patrick grins back at him. 

He puts down the bottle of hand lotion and looks inside the box that Stevie had been unboxing. There are half a dozen books left in the bottom of the box. When he pulls them out he finds a selection of baking cookbooks. “Oh, this one is really good.” He holds up a copy of Rose Levy Beranbaum’s Baking Bible. “Not sure it goes with the hand lotion, though.”

“Okay.” David sounds put out but he’s smiling. He picks up a pile of books from the counter and shelves them on the nearest shelf.

“So why a bookstore?” He’s curious. Bookstores are failing everywhere, gobbled up by the convenience of online buying. 

“I love books.” David’s voice is soft and it’s the most sincere he’s been since Patrick met him. “Books have always been a place to escape to, even when I was little.”

“Hmm, I’ve never been much of a reader. I always wanted to do things instead. Sports...and stuff.” He’d loved been read to as a child, curled up beside his mom or dad as they read stories about Narnia or Middle Earth. Once he’d gotten older, he’d wanted to be outside with his friends more than he’d wanted to read.

“And baking. The best known of the sports.” 

He grins at David. “And baking.”

“Are you sure you just haven’t found the right book?” David puts down the book he’s holding and tilts his head. 

“Is this the ‘just try it, you’ll like it’ speech? My high school English teacher tried that.” He’d hated the books they had forced him to read in school, that had been when his love of books had truly faded.

“Maybe? But I bet your high school English teacher made you read a bunch of Hemingway and Salinger instead of anything modern.” David picks up a second pile of books, shelving them one shelf over from the first set.

Patrick shrugs. It’s true. He hated the supposed classic books with their angsty, overly masculine protagonists. The characters were always so serious, consumed by their own importance. He’d preferred adventure stories or something funny, the type of stories that were frowned on in school. 

“Try this.” David pulls a book from the bottom of the pile on the counter. The cover is black and white and there’s a man in a suit with devil’s horns and a forked tail reclining above the title. 

“Good Omens.” He looks at David.

“It’s funny. But sweet at the same time? Just read the first 100 pages and if you hate it, I’ll never bother you again.” 

“About books.” He adds the words before he can think about them.

“What?”

“You won’t bother me about books. You could...bother me about other things. If you wanted.”

David smiles at him, the crooked, twisted smile that Patrick is coming to learn means that David is pleased about something he’s said. “About books.” David’s words are quiet as if they’re both a secret and a promise.

Patrick clears his throat and sets the book on an empty corner of the table in front of him. “Do you want some help?” He gestures to the explosion of boxes. 

“You don’t have to do that. It’s getting late, you probably want to go home.”

“Actually, I live over the coffee shop, so…”

“Are you sure you’re not just trying to get out of reading that book?”

Patrick laughs. “I promise that’s not it.”

“Okay, well, you could organize those books by subject.” David points to the pile of books that Stevie has stacked on the table. They work together in silence for a couple of hours. Patrick finishes with the pile of books, sorting them into categories: Cookbooks, Home and Garden, Health and Beauty and a surprising number of art books. On the other side of the table he can see David sorting fiction books. He works his way through five different boxes of books and a theme emerges. David hasn’t just ordered the best-selling books in every category, he’s curated a selection of books that go together, books about creating beautiful spaces and personal beauty. Maybe the baking books go with the hand lotion after all, he thinks to himself as he unboxes another set of cookbooks.

He yawns suddenly and pulls out his phone to check the time. It’s after eleven, somehow the evening has flown by. 

“I should go.” He gestures to the door, reluctantly. He doesn’t want to go, he’d much rather stay here with David in the quiet, peaceful chaos of the bookstore but he has to get up at five to open the cafe. He picks up the book David gave him and moves to the door. 

“Thanks, um, for the help. And the scones.” 

“Any time. See you tomorrow?” There’s a weight to the question that he didn’t expect and he holds his breath waiting for David’s answer.

“Tomorrow.” 

***

In the morning, he brings the book downstairs with him, even though he knows he won’t have time to read it during the day. In the kitchen, he sets it on the corner of the counter beside the phone and the pad of paper that they use to take takeout orders. He pulls out the baking and carries it into the front of the shop, arranging it in the display cases. The back door opens and closes as Rachel arrives.

“Morning Patrick.”

“Morning.”

He takes his empty container back to the kitchen, Rachel is reading the blurb on the back of the Good Omens book. She raises an eyebrow at him.

“Did you have a good night last night?”

He grins at the knowing note in her voice and takes the book from her. “Yes, but not how you think. We just talked and I helped organize books.”

“And he gave you a book.” 

“Yeah.” He fiddles with the book, rubbing along the edge of the pages with his thumb. He wants it to mean something. 

“And?”

“And I just wish I knew what I was doing.”

“Patrick.” Rachel crosses her arms and pretends to glare at him. “Do you know one of the things I hated when we were together?”

“Other than the fact that I wouldn’t admit I was attracted to men?” 

“Ha.” She smiles at him and he’s grateful they can joke about it. “That you always had to have a plan. Let it go. See where it takes you.”

“Yeah, okay.” He puts the book down on the counter. He knows she’s right but he wishes there was a checklist or a spreadsheet he could create. Meet cute boy. Check. Seduce him with coffee and muffins. Check. Check. Check. Help with business set up. Check. If only he could write out all the steps until he came to ‘First kiss’ or 'Spend the night together.’ 

“I better get the coffee started.”

Fridays are always busy and he’s grateful for the rush of people, it keeps his mind off David. Mostly. By the time there’s a respite from the crowd, it’s almost ten o’clock. A jolt of nervousness rushes through him. What if David decides not to come in today? He reorganizes the takeout cups beside the till, restacking the perfectly aligned cups. Before he can get too far into his head, the door opens and David appears in front of him. Without thinking, he reaches for a to go cup and the caramel sauce.

“Hi.”

“Hey.” He’s smiling like an idiot, but he can’t stop, not when the corners of David’s mouth quirk upwards in response. “The usual?”

“Mmm. When you say it like that it makes me sound boring and predictable.”

“I’m pretty sure no one would ever say you were boring.” Does David think he’s boring? He knows David didn’t mean it that way, but worry lurks in the back of his mind. He finishes the drink and slides it across the counter to David. “Anything else?”

David picks up the cup, wrapping both hands around it. He stares at Patrick like he doesn’t want to leave but he doesn’t know what to say. After a long moment, the words burst out of him. “I have to go to a family dinner tonight. So I won’t be at the store. Not that you need to know that. It’s not like I expect you to be there. You’ve done enough. Just, in case, you know...I thought you should know.” David looks at the ceiling, his mouth twisting.

Maybe despite his designer clothes and his perfectly styled hair David is as unsure as Patrick is. David’s eyes meet his and Patrick takes a sharp breath. “Okay. I have some reading to catch up on anyway.”

“Okay.” David smirks at him. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then?”

“Yeah. Enjoy your dinner.”

David is almost at the door but he turns back. “Oh, I doubt that.” With one last smirk, he’s gone. Patrick watches as he crosses the street before emptying the coffee grounds from the machine and brewing a new urn of coffee. David’s uncertainty is charming, and it gives him a boost of confidence. Humming to himself, he pours himself a cup of coffee and makes sure everything is ready for the lunch rush. 

After the shop closes, he picks up Good Omens and heads upstairs to his apartment. As he’d suspected, he hadn’t had time to read during the day, but seeing the book on the counter waiting for him makes him smile. In his apartment, he kicks off his shoes and grabs a beer from the fridge, before sinking into the couch with a sigh. 

_It was a nice day._   
_All the days had been nice. There had been rather more than seven of them and rain hadn’t been invented yet._

Three hours later, he lifts his head, slightly disoriented. His stomach growls and it’s dark outside. He looks back down at the book. He’s on page 191, well past the hundred pages he’d promised David he would read. He wants to keep reading, but he’s starving. With a groan, he levers himself off of the couch and places the open book face down on the coffee table. He goes into the kitchen and pulls the leftover lasagna out of the fridge and sticks it in the oven.

He finishes his lasagna and sets the plate in the sink. He’s restless after spending so long reading on the couch and wants to do something. With a sigh, he heads downstairs to the cafe’s kitchen and begins to mix a batch of blueberry rosemary muffins. As he puts the muffins in the oven, the piney scent of the rosemary fills the kitchen, making his mouth water.

While he waits for the muffins to bake, he opens his favorite baking app and scrolls through the recipes, making notes of new things to try. Pink Peppercorn and Rose Scones. Vanilla Pear Muffins. Basil Goat Cheese Blueberry Scones. A knock at the door interrupts the silence and makes him jump. In the warm light of the entryway he can see David standing on the street. His heartbeat speeds up and he gets up and opens the door.

“Hi. Um…” David spins the rings on his right hand. “I know it’s not tomorrow, but I saw you sitting there and…”

Patrick stands to one side so David can come inside. His breath catches as David’s arm brushes against his in the doorway. He locks the door behind them. David stops just inside the cafe, his fingers flash as he worries at his rings. 

“Do you want a muffin? Or I could make some tea?”

“A muffin. Please.” 

He waves David towards a stool at the end of the counter and goes into the kitchen just as the timer sounds. He pulls the tray of muffins out of the oven and puts a couple of the blueberry and rosemary muffins on a couple of plates. 

“You’re here alone?” David takes the plate from him and pulls off a piece of the muffin top and pops it in his mouth. Steam rises from the top of the muffin.

“Mmm hmm. Rachel, my...um...business partner left earlier.” 

David raises an eyebrow at his muddled explanation of his relationship to Rachel. “Just your business partner?”

“Well, and my friend. But nothing more.” He looks steadily at David, trying to communicate everything he feels for David that he doesn’t feel for Rachel. 

“Hmm.” David hums to himself. “Are you usually here this late?”

“No, I didn’t feel like going home.” Patrick tears off a piece of his own muffin. “I was just looking for some new recipes.” The muffin is delicious, the sweetness of the blueberries mixing with the woodsy afternotes of the rosemary.

“So how does a business major end up owning a coffee shop?”

“Uh, it’s kind of a long story.” The truth is that he and Rachel had bought the shop together after he’d asked her to marry him. At the time he’d thought it was just one more way to ensure that they were the right fit, that they were meant to spend the rest of their lives together. Which might be the case, although not in the way he’d thought. “I always wanted to own a business and coffee shops are a good bet. When we bought, this neighbourhood was just starting to grow, so our timing was good.”

“And now?”

“The past couple of years have been rough. Ray’s is the third business to close. But people still buy coffee.” He runs a hand over his face. 

“These muffins don’t hurt.” David looks over at him and he feels the mood shift. “You’ve got some flour…” David reaches out with his thumb to brush at Patrick’s cheek. Patrick inhales sharply and the sound ricochets around the empty space.

“Hazard of the job.” He breathes out the words and David’s hand cups the back of his neck. He leans into the touch as David pulls him closer and his lips touch Patrick’s. His hand falls from the counter to land on David’s leg, keeping him from overbalancing as he leans into the kiss. 

David pulls back to look at him, his eyes warm. “Is this okay?” He digs his fingers into David’s leg, encouraging him to come back to him, to kiss him again. The corners of David’s mouth turn up in response and he complies with the unspoken request, leaning forward to kiss him again. Patrick sighs into the kiss, years of tension floating away on the zing of energy in his body, the rush of blood through his veins.

Everything he wants is a bad idea. He wants to press David backwards against the counter, to grind against him, to pull him upstairs, giggling like children until he can shove David onto his bed, holding him fast until he begs. 

He breaks the kiss, thoughts whirling as he says the first thing he can think of that’s not about what he wants to do to David. Or have David do to him. “I like the book.”

David’s mouth twists and Patrick can tell he’s trying not to laugh. 

“When you’ve finished I’ve got another one for you.” An ocean of unspoken and implied promises lingers underneath David’s statement and Patrick swallows roughly.

“I’d like that.”

“I should go.” David kisses him again, a quick peck on the lips that reverberates through him. “I’ll see you tomorrow. For real this time.”

David closes the door of the cafe behind him, Patrick watches as he crosses the street, the light from the streetlights casting a long shadow against the pavement. Seconds later, lights flick on at the bookstore. 

He sits for a long moment, revisiting the feel of David’s lips against his, the press of his hand against the back of his neck. He takes a sharp breath and gathers up their dishes, placing them in the bin and locking the front door before he heads upstairs. 

He lies in bed, staring at the ceiling. The constant glow from the streetlight is broken by the occasional flash from the headlights of a car passing on the street below. He feels giddy, his mind won’t stop spinning, images of David intermingle with recipes for vanilla pear muffins and plot lines from the book David lent him. Every time his mind tries to chase down another pathway, his thoughts rebound like an elastic, snapping him back to David. With a sigh, he snaps on the light and opens his book, hoping to lose himself in the apocalyptic love story.

_It was early on Saturday morning, on the last day of the world, and the sky was redder than blood._

It’s almost one o’clock when he finishes the book. He yawns, setting it on the nightstand before switching off the light. His mind has settled, wrapped in the comforting blanket of the story. Is he Aziraphale to David’s Crowley? He slips into sleep before he can ponder the question.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The book in this chapter is Good Omens by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett.


	3. Vanilla Pear Muffins

After spending the night reading, morning comes too early. Patrick drags himself out of bed and into the shower, letting the hot water beat down on him until he feels awake enough to face the day. Rachel is already in the kitchen when he makes it downstairs, a rarity that makes her raise her eyebrows questioningly when he appears in the doorway.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I was up late.” He sets the copy of Good Omens on the counter so he’ll remember to return it to David later.

“By yourself?” Rachel pauses, peppers and onions in one hand as she gathers the ingredients for the breakfast wraps. 

“I...yeah...mostly.” He yawns as he pulls out the tray with the baking to take to the front. 

“Mostly?’ Rachel tilts her head at him, her eyes questioning. “What does that mean?”

“When I stayed up late I was by myself...just not earlier.” It’s awkward to tell her. Sharing details about a first kiss is better suited to a childhood treehouse. “David stopped by. He...um...he kissed me.”

Instead of the gleeful reaction he expects, Rachel smiles at him fondly as she comes around the corner of the kitchen island. She wraps him in a tight hug. “I’m really happy for you.” He swallows the lump in his throat as he hugs her back. When he’d come to terms with who he was a year ago there’d been a moment when he’d believed that knowing himself would mean that he would lose his best friend. That it didn’t turn out that way is one of the greatest gifts he’s been given. They hold each other for a long moment until Rachel pushes him away gently. 

“We’re running behind because someone slept in.”

Except for the extra cup of coffee that he decides is necessary, the morning unfolds as usual. By nine o’clock, the crowd has thinned out and he’s started to watch the clock as his anticipation about seeing David increases. At last, a black and white figure crosses the street, the door opens and David stands in the doorway.

“Hi.”

“Hi.” A single word shouldn’t make him feel like this. A warm sensation spreads through him and he can’t contain the smile that’s spreading across his face.

David is smiling too, but he’s playing with the rings on his right hand, spinning them around as he approaches the counter. When he’s close enough, Patrick grips the edge of the counter, lifting himself off the ground so his lips can meet David’s in a quick kiss. His nervous laugh is matched by David’s as they part. He slides a muffin and the copy of Good Omens across the counter to David while he makes his drink.

“Did you like it?”

He nods. “It was funny. And sweet. I wasn’t expecting it to be a love story.” He puts the lid on David’s drink and reaches for a cardboard sleeve. He hesitates, wanting to add a message without making the moment too significant. Knowing it’s cheesy, he settles on a random song lyric: **Call me, maybe?** He passes the cup to David, watching as he reads what he’s written.

“Yep, mmm hmm.” David grins at him, quick and bright. “Are you busy tonight?”

“No.” He squares up the stack of cup sleeves, needing to look away from the intense look in David’s eyes.

“We could go for dinner?” There’s an eagerness to David’s question, mixed with some apprehension. He looks up to see doubt win out on David’s face. “Unless you’re having regrets about last night?”

“There’s nothing I regret about last night.” The words come out more fiercely than he intends as a wave of relief and desire rises inside him.

“Oh. Good.” David’s long fingers pick at the corner of the cardboard sleeve on his cup. “I’ll swing by just before seven o’clock.” 

Rachel comes in from the kitchen as David finishes his sentence. She looks between the two of them, her eyes narrowing as a smirk creeps across her face. “Hi! I’m Rachel!”

Patrick glares at her, seeing through her false exuberance. She smiles at him even more brightly and holds her hand out to David. “You must be David Rose. Patrick said you bought the bookstore.”

“Yes, yep.” David shakes her hand awkwardly and looks at Patrick, a panicked look on his face.

“David, this is my business partner, Rachel.” He tries to give her a look to get her to back off, but all her attention is on David.

“Nice to meet you.” David’s voice is strangled and he pulls his hand away a little too quickly.

“Business partner, best friend. Same thing.” There’s a dangerous note to her voice now. He’s not sure if David can hear it or not. It takes him back to the day in second grade when she’d taken Josh Turner apart in front of the entire class because he’d made fun of Patrick for being friends with a girl. Josh had left the class in tears and Rachel had gotten sent to the principal’s office. It had been the day he’d fallen in love with her. 

“Rach…” She stares at David for another long moment before turning to look at him. He can’t help but grin at the fire in her eyes. “Be nice.”

“We’ll see. I’m going to the market, do you need anything?”

“Some pears if they have any.” He wants to try that recipe for vanilla pear muffins. Does David like pears? He could ask but it seems weird. He looks at David’s lips, picturing them sticky with pear juice. He swallows and plays with the felt marker, twisting the cap around. There’s a long moment of silence as Rachel leaves.

“She’s pretty intense.” David is clutching his coffee as tightly as possible, his mouth twisting. 

“She’s been protecting me since we were seven years old. I think it’s a habit.” It isn’t just him. Rachel has always fought for all her friends with equal parts fire and determination. She’s relentless and he loves her for it.

“She thinks I’m something you need to be protected from?” David frowns at him, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

“Not exactly. It’s complicated.” The door opens and a group of his regulars from the bank down the street spill into the cafe. “Maybe we can pick this up tonight?”

“Yeah. Okay.” David’s voice is quiet, almost completely lost in the chatter of the group.

The coffee shop is busy until two o’clock, keeping him distracted from the anticipation that’s humming through him. As the lunch rush fades away, he takes a cup of coffee into the kitchen where Rachel is unloading the last of the dishes from the dishwasher. 

“So...dinner?” 

“Mmm hmm.” He can’t keep still. Needing to do something with his hands, he grabs the tray of cutlery and begins to sort it. “Assuming you don’t scare him away before I get there.”

Rachel grimaces at him as she stacks the plates on the counter. “Sorry. I forget, sometimes, that I don’t have any right to interfere. It’s just...habit, I guess?”

“You don’t have to protect me.” He sets the empty cutlery tray back in the dishwasher.

“I know. But I can still want good things for you.” Rachel sets the plates on their shelf and closes the door of the dishwasher. 

“Are you okay? Is this okay...for you?” He’s been so immersed in his new feelings for David that he hasn’t considered how Rachel might be feeling about seeing him in a new relationship.

“Patrick. It’s fine. I’m fine.” Her words are firm and he knows she means it. “We were both miserable. Before. You deserve this and it makes me happy that you’re happy.”

He blinks a couple of times to hold back his tears. “I’m glad you’re still my friend, Rach.”

“Me too, you big idiot.”

“And I’m not just saying that because you’re really scary when you don’t like someone.”

“Okay.” She grins at him and squeezes his arm as she leaves the kitchen. Patrick pulls up the recipe for the vanilla pear muffins and starts to peel and core the pears. 

Even as he chops the pears and walnuts, his mind skips ahead to his upcoming date with David, the buzz of anticipation unfolding into a nervous hum. He wants David. He longs to feel his hands and his mouth on his body. The kitchen is too warm. How did it get so hot? He preheats the oven and a trickle of sweat and anticipation runs down the middle of his back. 

He mixes the buttermilk with the dry ingredients, tossing the batter lightly until it’s just mixed enough before adding the pears and walnuts. The juice from the pears loosens the batter to the right consistency and he spoons it into the paper wrappers in the muffin pan. Everything he’s feeling is new. The sensation courses through him, a heady mix of longing and nerves. 

The recipe calls for a topping of ground walnuts; he grinds a small handful in his spice grinder, mixing them with sugar and cinnamon and dusting the top of each muffin. His mind leaps ahead. Maybe after dinner, he and David can have muffins...and other things...for dessert? He puts the muffins in the oven, trying to hold back his fantasies of what might happen that evening.

After the cafe closes, Patrick goes upstairs and opens the door to his closet. He wishes he’d asked David where they were going for dinner so he’d know what to wear. David would probably say everything in his wardrobe was identical, but he still can’t decide. Finally he settles on his blue blazer and a blue button down and jeans. If it’s too formal, he can always take the jacket off. He gets dressed and checks his phone. It’s only six o’clock. He sits on the couch before getting up seconds later to pace around the apartment. This is stupid. Why is he nervous? He shouldn’t be nervous. He forces himself to sit back down on the couch. He taps his fingers on the arm of the couch. Again. And again. And again. Sitting still is like being tortured. He gets to his feet, striding back and forth between the living room and the kitchen and back to the living room. He checks his phone.

It’s six fifteen.

After another thirty minutes of pacing around his apartment, he heads downstairs so he can pace in the cafe until David arrives. He unlocks the front door and stands in the middle of the room. The containers that hold the sugar packets and stir sticks are uneven, so he lines them up with the edge of the counter. He’s about to rearrange the coffee cups beside them when the door finally opens and David steps inside.

He’s in all black, except for a white lightning bolt that zig zags down his chest, drawing Patrick’s eyes down the line of his body. 

“Hi.”

“Hey.” David is playing with the ring on his right hand, spinning it around and around, a nervous tic that Patrick doesn’t think he’s entirely aware of. 

“This is for you.” David hands him a hardcover book. On the black and white cover a stylized hand cups a striped circus tent. He reads the title out loud.

“The Night Circus.” He smirks at David. “Did you choose all these books because they match your personal color scheme?”

“That’s just an added bonus.” David steps close and kisses him on the cheek, the heat of his lips lingers even after he steps away. “C’mon, we’re going to be late.”

He sets the book on the counter and follows David out onto the street, turning to lock the door behind them. The road is wet from a shower that had passed through and the streetlights reflect off of the wet pavement. David leads them across the square, it’s busy, the conversations around them are hushed, intimate. They move together, joined by an invisible cord that synchronizes their movements. He wants David to hold his hand. He can feel the temptation of it as David walks beside him. It’s a silly thing to wish for, but he wants to feel David’s long fingers between his, to tug David closer when they drift apart. He can see it so clearly that when David’s fingers slip between his he thinks he’s imagined it. He looks over to see David smiling at him softly. 

“Over there.” With his free hand David gestures towards the entrance of a restaurant that’s tucked into the corner of the square. An outdoor patio surrounds the entryway, grapevines frame the space covering the temporary walls, creating a private oasis away from the bustle of the main square. A handful of other couples are seated beneath the strings of patio lights that are strung along the walls and across the top of the patio.

Once they’re seated, David releases his hand, the absence of his fingers feels like a loss. They order drinks and David is playing with his rings again, a sign that Patrick is coming to recognize means he’s nervous. He can feel the weight of their earlier conversation with Rachel but he’s not sure how to reopen the subject.

“Um…about Rachel...”

“If there’s something between you and Rachel…”

They both speak at the same time. He laughs, awkward and uncomfortable before answering David’s question.

“There’s not. Now.” David doesn’t look reassured by his response. “We broke up last year...uh…” It’s harder than he thought it would be to describe what Rachel means to him, what she has meant to him. He swallows, playing with the edge of the napkin, before looking up to meet David’s eyes. “We broke up because I’m very, very gay.”

His candid statement knocks a nervous laugh out of David. “So you’re not just...experimenting?”

“I can guarantee that’s not it.”

“It’s okay if you are, I just...I just want to know...before…” 

His heart breaks a little at David’s words. “David. Rachel and I were together for fifteen years and I’m pretty sure I was gay for all of them. I think it’s pretty clear I’m not someone who experiments.”

“Oh. Okay.” A tiny smile emerges at the corner of David’s mouth and Patrick can tell he’s pleased. The server brings their wine and takes their dinner orders. “So, uh, how scared should I be of Rachel?” There’s a playful note in David’s voice, but it’s a serious question.

“That depends on what you’re planning to do to me.” The words are out before he realizes how they sound and he blushes furiously as David laughs at him. “I mean...um...fuck.”

David smirks at him, his eyes are hot and they hold him in place. “Eventually. If you want.”

He’s instantly hard. He’s never been so grateful for a restaurant with cloth tablecloths and the drape of the napkin on his lap. He takes a sip of wine as the heat in his cheeks lingers. Trying to refocus, he answers David’s original question. “When we were seven, Rachel made the class bully cry, so…”

David winces. “Just so you know, my track record in this area is not great.”

“I’m pretty sure neither of us would be sitting here if our past relationships had worked out.”

“Yeah. It’s just…” David slides his wine glass back and forth on the table, fingers pushing at the base. “You were in a relationship for fifteen years. Some of my longest relationships lasted fifteen days.” David looks down at the table and takes a gulp of his wine. 

“Maybe we both have things we can learn along the way.” 

David’s eyes meet his and a half-smirk twists his mouth. Patrick longs to kiss him, but the table sits between them, an insurmountable barrier. He’s weighing the awkwardness of getting up so he can reach David against his desire when their server brings their plates. 

The rest of the meal passes quickly, as though their mutual confessions have cleared the air of any uncertainty. Patrick can only laugh as David tells him the story of his dad’s attempt to gift him a basketball court, and in return he shares the story of the time his mom made him take a mother-son painting class. 

“Your mom seems really great.” David reaches across the table to steal a bite of Patrick’s cheesecake.

“She is. And my dad.” He fends off David’s second attempt at his dessert. “I was worried, you know, when I told them why Rachel and I were ending things. But they just want me to be happy.”

“Mmm. That’s nice.” David looks sadly at his empty dessert plate and Patrick gives in, sliding his plate closer to the middle of the table. David’s face lights up as he takes another forkful. “I just brought a couple home one day and my parents haven’t said anything about it since.”

“Huh.” He’s not sure if David’s experience makes him sad or nervous. David seems unfazed by the revelation, so he decides to roll with it. David finishes his cheesecake, sighing at the final bite.

After dinner, they walk back through the square. This time, Patrick reaches for David’s hand, a thrill shoots through him as David’s fingers curl around his own. A busker is sitting beside the fountain in the middle of the square. He’s playing a guitar, his case open beside him, dotted with coins and few bills. 

_"In your heart I see the start of every night and every day."_

“Mmm, I love this song.” David pulls them to stop and leans against him. Patrick drops his hand so he can pull David against him, resting his chin on shoulder. David is humming softly to the music, he’s slightly out of tune, but Patrick could listen to him all night. The song ends and David turns his head to kiss his temple. Patrick leans into the press of David’s lips, the casual contact feels like something he’s been waiting for his entire life.

The busker starts another song and he reluctantly steps away from David. He holds out his hand, giving David a soft smile as their fingers tangle together.

In the doorway of the cafe, he turns to face David. “Thank you for dinner.” A spark lights David’s eyes and Patrick doesn’t want the evening to end. “Do you, uh, want to come upstairs?” It might be the most awkward sentence he’s ever uttered. There’s a long pause and he’s afraid he’s ruined this before it’s started. When his eyes meet David’s, David is smiling softly. He leans forward to whisper in Patrick's ear.

“I would like that very much.” David kisses him slow and sweet, his lips part slightly before he steps back. Patrick gives a tiny whine at the loss of contact. “I need to grab some things.” David gestures at the bookshop. “I’ll see you in fifteen.”

“Okay.” His voice is a little shaky and David runs his hands up his arms. “The stairs are at the back by the kitchen, just lock the door behind you when you come in.” David nods and gives him a quick peck on the lips before he crosses the street.

It takes Patrick three tries to get his key in the lock to open the door. Upstairs, he kicks off his shoes and shrugs out of his jacket. There’s an empty coffee mug in the sink. Should he wash it? That’s silly, David won’t care about a coffee cup. He looks around the apartment, nerves jangling inside him, his ears tuned to any sound that might be David. Finally, he hears the shop door open and close and the metallic clunk as David turns the lock behind him. David’s footsteps are on the stairs and he appears in the doorway, a black bag in one hand. He sets it by the couch and his eyes meet Patrick’s.

“Do you...do you want something to drink?” He stumbles over the words. David’s black eyes latch on to his and he can’t look away. 

“No.” David takes two strides towards him, his eyes are bright and dark. He cups Patrick’s face in his hands and Patrick expects the kiss to be deep and needy, but it’s not. Instead, it’s soft and sweet as David’s lips barely brush against his. Warmth flows down his spine, washing away his nerves and replacing them with anticipation. David pulls back from the kiss even as his thumbs stroke along Patrick’s cheekbones. “Hi there.” 

The simple words unlock something inside him. He puts his hands on David’s hips and pulls him closer. “Hi.” 

He has to reach up to kiss David; it sends a thrill down his back. As he leans closer, David’s hands fall to his shoulders. There’s more heat to the kiss this time, David’s lips press against his, seeking. His lips part and David’s tongue meets his. He whimpers at the touch. His hands grip David’s hips more firmly, pulling him even closer. David slots his thigh between Patrick’s legs and hardness of him presses into his leg.

Before he can adjust to the sensation, David’s hands have dropped to the edge of his jeans. He nips at Patrick’s jaw before pressing a kiss beside his ear. The roughness of his stubble sends tiny shock waves through Patrick. “Is this okay?”

For a second, he doesn’t understand what David is asking. Of course it’s okay. This is the best he’s ever felt, can’t David see what he’s doing to him? “Patrick?” David tugs lightly on the bottom of his shirt, pulling it partway out of where it’s tucked into his jeans. 

“Yeah. Yes.” He swallows roughly. “This is definitely okay. But, maybe...over there?” He gestures blindly in what he hopes is the direction of his bed. 

It’s David’s turn to swallow audibly. He places another kiss on Patrick’s jaw before tugging his earlobe between his teeth. Patrick’s gasp fills the room. Without looking behind him, David pulls him towards the bed, stopping only when his knees hit the edge of the mattress. David finishes untucking Patrick’s shirt, running his hands along the top of Patrick’s jeans. His skin quivers in response.

David’s hands leave his waist and he whines at their absence. Before he can do anything more than whine, David’s fingers are working awkwardly at the buttons on his shirt and David is swearing at his sudden clumsiness. With a laugh, he pushes David’s hands away to make quick work of the familiar task. His shirt falls open and David drops his head to Patrick’s shoulder, nudging the fabric out of his way so he can mouth a mark onto his collarbone. David nips at the spot, making Patrick gasp even as he buries a hand into David’s hair. 

David gives a final lick to the spot on his shoulder. It’s very unfair that David is wearing so many clothes. He pulls at the hem of David’s sweater until David lifts it over his head, placing it carefully on the chair behind him. 

He runs his hands up David’s chest, through the trail of dark hair that dusts his stomach and along his sides. He wants to see all of David, to explore every inch of his skin. Goosebumps appear as he presses his lips to the ball of David’s shoulder. His hands stroke up David’s body, brushing against his nipples. A breath hisses from David’s mouth, but he stands completely still. David tips his head back and he watches Patrick through hooded eyes as he mouths kisses along the top of David’s shoulder.

David’s skin is soft beneath his fingers. There’s a scattering of freckles at the top of his shoulders, he teases them with his tongue and David rolls his shoulder in response. Moving behind David, he runs his hands up David’s arms, touching him so lightly he can just feel the whisper of David’s skin under his fingers. He stops at the base of David’s neck, letting his hands rest on his shoulders before kissing the nape of his neck and then nipping at the same spot. A shudder runs through David. “God, Patrick.” His voice is a whisper, rough and broken. 

Patrick presses his fingertips to the same spot before running his fingers down the line of David’s back. David arches beneath his touch. Before David can move, he grips David’s hips, pulling them together. The pressure of David’s ass against his hard cock feels exquisite and he gasps, rocking their bodies together even as he bites gently at the back of David’s neck. David’s head falls back against his, his breath harsh as the scrape of stubble against his cheek makes him tremble.

He could come just from this but he wants more. He releases David, gliding his hands along the tops of his shoulders, exploring the lines and angles of his back before moving back in front of him. David’s hand reaches beneath the fall of his open shirt to grasp his hip, the weight of it settling into him like it was meant to be there. David’s eyes are darker than he’s ever seen them, full and hungry. 

David bends to kiss him and he rises to meet him, losing himself in the feel of David’s mouth, the brush of stubble against his lips, the push of David’s tongue. David’s hand moves to the front of his jeans, pausing as his fingers rest on the button. 

“Can I?” David pulls away so he can see Patrick’s face. 

“Yeah. God yes.” David grins at the neediness in his voice, his deft fingers making quick work of the button and zipper, easing his jeans down and off until he can kick them away. David makes a funny noise and he gestures at Patrick’s feet. “Socks.” His face twists in disgust. “We’re not doing this while you’re wearing those socks.”

“What if my feet get cold?” The teasing releases tension that he didn’t know he was holding. There’s no graceful way to remove his socks while he’s standing so he sits on the edge of the bed, looking up at David. “I’m not the only one who’s wearing too many clothes.” He reaches for the edge of David’s pants, running his fingers between the layers of cloth and David’s skin, searching for the fastening. David bats his hands away, making quick work of the complicated closure. Patrick can’t tear his eyes away as David stands before him, nearly fully naked except for a pair of tight, black briefs. 

He’s still wearing his shirt, so he pulls it off slowly, tossing it onto the chair with David’s sweater. “Socks.” David points insistently at his feet, making him smirk as he reaches down to pull off the offending garments. Before he can drop the last sock on the floor, David pounces on him, pushing him backwards onto the bed and crawling after him. He lays back on the pillows, David arranges himself carefully beside him. It’s not what he wants. He tugs at David’s hip, wanting to feel the weight of his body, to be covered by the full length of David’s skin. 

David laughs softly before he brings his mouth to Patrick’s even as he moves his body to press him into the bed. Feeling David’s solid weight on top of him makes him whimper and he rolls his hips, searching for friction. David’s hips roll to meet his and he’s lost in the sensation of David’s body moving above him, David’s lips on his. He’s close, too close, he needs to stop.

“Wait.” Instantly, David freezes above him, a worried look on his face. “I want...I want…” The words are impossibly difficult. “Suck my cock. Please?” It’s barely a whisper. 

David grins and kisses him again, messy against his lips, before nuzzling his ear. “Mmm hmm, yes.” David kisses his way along his neck, the prickle of stubble against his skin making him twist and writhe. He presses a line of soft kisses into the skin of Patrick’s stomach before hooking his fingers into the waistband of his briefs and pulling them down and off. David runs his hands up his thighs, his hands feel huge on Patrick’s hips; the comparison to how he’s been touched in the past makes his cock twitch in anticipation. 

David hums to himself, the vibrations make his hips buck as David takes his cock into his mouth. David’s hands grip his hips, holding him in place. The firm pressure is enough to push him over the edge and he doesn’t have any time to warn David before he’s coming into his mouth. His brain short-circuits for a moment and he thinks he might have lost the ability to move. He forces his eyes open to see David is propped up on one elbow beside him, looking down at him. 

“You still with me?”

“Uh huh. Yeah. Yes.” He swallows and forces his eyes to focus. “God, sorry.” 

David is shaking his head before he can get the apology out. “There’s nothing to be sorry about.” 

When he thinks he can move, he reaches a hand to cup the back of David’s neck, pulling him into a sloppy kiss. Tasting himself on David’s lips, he deepens the kiss, chasing the sensation. 

David is still wearing his briefs. He tugs at them and David smiles into their kiss. “Greedy.” David pushes away from him to remove his underwear, his eyes are riveted to Patrick’s, turning his breathing short and shallow.

The sight of David fully naked beside him almost breaks his brain again, but David straddles him, grinding them together and feel of it lights him up inside. He’s hard again and the feel of David’s cock sliding against his own makes him moan, deep in the back of his throat. His eyes drift closed and above him he hears the lid of a bottle being opened. He opens his eyes just enough to see David pouring lube into his hand. Patrick doesn’t remember the bottle from earlier, David must have grabbed it when he was getting undressed. David’s hand grasps their cocks together and any other thoughts are lost in the sensation of moving together. He can feel the tension uncoiling inside him and he comes for a second time, David moans and follows seconds after. 

David collapses beside him. He presses one last kiss to the mark he left on Patrick’s shoulder, making him flinch. Minutes pass and he’s drifting away when he feels David get out of bed, returning with a warm washcloth. He makes quick work of wiping Patrick’s chest before dropping the cloth to the floor and pulling Patrick into his arms before they drift off to sleep.

Later, they’re lying in bed together, sheets tangled around them. Patrick’s head rests on David’s bare chest, his eyes are closed as David cards his fingers through his short hair. It’s soothing and he can feel himself drifting off again. David’s hand stops.

“Wait, I forgot.” David nudges him with his shoulder and he lifts his head, shifting his weight as David slides out of the bed. He props himself up on one elbow, watching as David’s naked body bends over to unzip a pocket on his bag. The light from the bedside lamp is warm, casting soft shadows that highlight the long muscles on the back of David’s legs, the curve of his ass, the line of his back. David turns and catches Patrick watching him, a smirk curves the corners of his lips.

“Normally, I don’t like people seeing me without clothes.” David slips back beneath the sheets as Patrick lets his eyes trace the outline of David’s chest and legs. “But the way you look at me…” 

“Mmm.” Patrick slides his hand into the dip of David’s waist, chasing David’s lips for a kiss. He loses himself in the movement of David’s lips, the heat of his mouth, pulling him closer until something hard pokes him in the ribs. He reaches down to pull out the book that David had brought back to bed. 

“Anthology of the Unknown: Self Published Canadian Poets.” He looks at David. “I don’t know if this is my thing.” He opens the book, only to have David pull it gently from his fingers.

“Poetry should be read aloud.” David flips through the book, searching for something. “Listen.” Patrick lays his head back down on David’s chest. He can hear the beat of David’s heart, steady beneath his ear. David holds the book open with one hand, tangling the fingers of his other hand in Patrick’s hair.

_“Who hurt you, once,_  
so far beyond repair  
that you would meet each overture  
with curling lip? 

It’s raw and beautiful and for the briefest second he wonders if someone had written the words about David, they so perfectly encapsulate the striking and complicated man beside him. He traces a line down the center of David’s chest, feeling him shiver.

_While we, who knew you well,_  
your friends, (the focus of your scorn)  
could see your courage in the face of fear,  
your wit, and thoughtfulness,  
and will remember you  
with something close to love.” 

David whispers the last line and Patrick can hear the longing inside him. “David…” He doesn’t know what he wants to say. Everything seems too big, too weighty, too soon. He presses his lips to a spot over David’s heart, imagining he can still hear the steady beat.

“See? It’s better out loud.” David’s voice is low and breathy. 

“Mmm.” He pulls the book out of David’s hands and sets it on the nightstand before reaching down to the bottom of the bed for the edge of the comforter and pulling it over both of them. As the soft warmth envelopes them, he wraps his arms around David, tucking his face into the crook of his neck. David relaxes beneath him, his arm comes around to rest on Patrick’s bare hip and he snuggles closer, tangling their feet together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Anthology of the Unknown does not actually exist, however, the poem is Beyond Repair by Marilyn Plessner, from her self-published collection Vapour Trails. Most recently it can be found in the Armand Gamache novels by Louise Penny. The Night Circus is by Erin Morgenstern and will be featured more prominently in Chapter 4.


	4. Chocolate Pistachio Cupcakes

When Patrick wakes in the morning, he’s back on his usual side of the bed. David has followed him across, one long arm is draped across his chest, pinning him down. David’s face is buried beneath the covers, a shock of dark hair is all that’s visible, mussed strands pointing in all directions. 

He wants to spend the rest of the day in bed, cuddled up to David beneath the comforter. But duty calls and he frees himself from David’s arm, pulling the comforter down far enough to kiss David softly on the forehead. He snuffles in his sleep, but doesn’t wake up.

Trying to be as quiet as possible he grabs some clean clothes from his dresser and goes into the bathroom to take a shower. When he emerges, the David-shaped lump in his bed hasn’t moved. He writes a quick note, promising muffins and coffee when David makes it downstairs and props it on top of David’s phone.

Downstairs, he gets ready for the day. He’s starting the coffee when he hears the back door open and close, announcing Rachel’s arrival. 

“Morning, Patrick.”

“Morning, Rach.” He grins at her, glad to have some place to direct his energy. Rachel stops in the doorway, narrowing her eyes at him.

“You look happy.” He tries to shrug her off, but he can’t stop smiling. “Did you have a good night?”

“Uh…” A dozen responses go through his mind and he stares at her helplessly, a goofy smile on his face. 

“It must have been good if David’s rendered you speechless.” 

An image of David standing impossibly still as he runs his hands over his body flashes through his mind. His face gets hot. “Shut up.” It’s a friendly protest. “And yeah.”

“So did he go home already or…?” Rachel is enjoying his discomfort, she smiles at him gleefully even as she tries to school her face into a neutral expression.

His face gets even hotter. “He’s still asleep.”

“You left a gorgeous guy asleep in your bed so you could come make coffee?”

“We have a business to run.” He knows she’s just trying to wind him up and a broad smile spreads across her face. 

“I’ll just keep an eye on the stairs, shall I?”

“Oh, that’s not necessary.”

With a laugh, Rachel finally disappears into the kitchen, leaving him to finish setting up before they open. He goes through the usual motions, brewing the coffee, setting out the baking, making sure all the supplies are restocked. His mind keeps going back to David. The heavy press of David’s body on his, the brush of stubble against his skin, the sounds he made when they came together. His palms are sweating and he wipes them on his jeans.

He’d never thought he could feel like this. He’d forced himself out of bed and out of his apartment because he’d known that if he’d stayed in bed with David, he might never leave. He would spend the rest of the day, maybe the rest of his life, cocooned under the covers, exploring and laughing until it overwhelmed him and washed him away. 

Coming downstairs was an act of self-defense. An attempt to hold on so that he wasn’t consumed by David. It’s too soon for the things he’s thinking. Too soon for anyone, not just someone with David’s history, too soon for himself. He puts the last of the coffee cups on the shelf, making sure the handles are turned out so they can grab them quickly when it gets busy. 

The morning rush peters out just after nine and David still hasn’t appeared. The fire escape is the only other way out of the apartment. The image of David dangling off the metal ladder in his designer sweater fills his mind, making him laugh to himself. He hands a latte to one of his regulars just as he hears footsteps on the stairs. It seems overly eager to be waiting by the door when David emerges but he can’t stop himself from walking to the far end of the counter. 

The door opens. David is wearing a grey leopard print sweater and the tightest jeans Patrick has ever seen. His mouth goes dry even as his lips curl up in a smile.

“Hi.”

“Good morning.”

David gives him a kiss on the cheek, uncertainty crackles between them. Patrick can feel David’s nervousness mingling with his own as he tries to assess how David is feeling this morning. 

“Coffee?”

“Mmm hmm. And I think someone promised me a muffin?” The spark is back in David’s eyes and the tension dissipates. He takes a seat at the very end of the counter. Patrick puts a vanilla pear muffin on a plate and slides it over to David before going to made his coffee. He sets the coffee in front of David, leaning over to murmur in his ear.

“I liked finding you in my bed this morning.”

David goes still, his hands wrapped around the mug. “It’s very unfair of you to say that kind of thing before I’ve had any coffee.” A smile flutters at the corners of his mouth. “I liked it too.”

They’re smiling at each other when Rachel pokes her head in the door from the kitchen. Her eyes light up when she sees David sitting at the counter. 

“Morning, David. I thought I heard you come down.”

David looks at him in panic and Patrick tilts his head and gives him a half-shrug. He’s surprised Rachel had stayed in the kitchen as long as she had. She takes the seat beside David’s and Patrick pours her a cup of coffee, bracing himself for what she might say.

“How the bookstore coming?”

David looks at her carefully before he answers. “Good, I should be able to open on Friday.” He’s finished the muffin so Patrick brings him a cheddar bacon scone. David flashes a quick smile at him as he breaks off a corner of the scone and pops it in his mouth. 

“I guess we’ll be seeing a lot of you, then.” There’s a lengthy pause as Rachel stares at David over the rim of her cup. “Now that you’re part of the...neighbourhood.”

“Mmm hmm. Yes.” 

“Rach…” He makes sure can hear the warning in his voice. Rachel finishes her coffee and sets the cup on the counter. 

“I hope we’ll see you again soon, David.” The door to the kitchen swings shut behind her.

“Sorry. She just...wants me to be happy.”

David’s face twists into a familiar grimace. “Let’s not introduce her to Stevie.” Patrick laughs, imagining what it would be like to face down Rachel and Stevie together. “Are you?”

David’s question takes him off guard. “Am I what?”

“Are you happy?”

Happy doesn’t seem like the right word. It’s too small, too contented for the euphoria he’s feeling. He leans across the counter to press a kiss to David’s lips. He tastes like chocolate and bacon and coffee. “I’m very happy.”

The front door opens and a cluster of people spill into the shop, their chatter fills the space as they discuss their coffee orders. As Patrick turns away from David to take their orders he hears his quiet voice behind him. “Me too.”

The first group of people leads to several more. David finishes his coffee and with a smile and nod to Patrick, he disappears out the door and across the street. 

That afternoon, he mixes the batter for their regular muffin and scone recipes and gets them in the oven. He flips through the recipes on his phone, looking for something new to try. Peaches and Cream Muffins. Pumpkin Spice Scones. He can’t decide, he doesn’t know what flavors David likes best. The thought brings him up short. He wants to bake for David. He wants to give him chocolate and cinnamon muffins and lemon and rosemary scones and kiss the sugar from his mouth once he’s tried them. He bites his lips together, holding back the imaginary taste of David’s lips. 

Finally he settles on two choices, lemon cream cheese crumb muffins and espresso chocolate chunk scones. He texts the two recipes to David.

**Patrick: **Which one do you like?

There’s a brief pause before the three little dots appear below his message.

**David: **Can you make both?

He smothers a laugh, glad he hadn’t sent ten recipes for David to choose from, but knowing that he would have made ten different types of baking if David had asked. He makes the muffins first, sliding them into the oven when the other muffins and scones are ready to come out. He starts on the more complicated scone recipe, getting a cup of espresso from their machine out front so it will have time to cool. He mixes the dry ingredients and cuts in the butter, mixing it with his fingers until the butter is fully worked into the flour. He adds the espresso to the heavy cream, slowly mixing it into the flour until the dough is the right consistency. He chops some dark chocolate, adding it in just before he shapes the dough. Even raw, the dough smells amazing, coffee and chocolate fills the kitchen.

With everything in the oven, he picks up the most recent book that David has given him and flips to the first page.

_The circus arrives without warning._

He’s about thirty pages into the book when the timer for the muffins and scones sounds. He’s not as sure about this book. It’s not funny like the last one, instead it’s filled with magic and secrets and strange characters. Still, he agreed to read a hundred pages of the first book, so he can read a hundred pages of this one. He puts the book down so he can tidy the kitchen, putting the dirty dishes into the dishwasher, cleaning the flour from the top of the mixer, sliding the warm baking into storage bins for morning. He sets aside a couple of the items from each of the new recipes for David, knowing he’ll be heading across the street as soon as the cafe closes. 

He’s sliding the last of the scones into a container when Rachel sticks her head in the door. 

“Everything’s locked up out front.”

“Thanks, Rach.”

She grabs a scone before he can close up the container. “I like him. David, I mean.” She breaks off a little piece of the scone and chews for a second. 

“Me too.” He smiles at her softly and slides the container with the scones onto the shelf. Other than his parents, she’s been the one person who’s shared nearly all the important moments in his life. They’d shared their first kiss and lost their virginity together, but more than that, he’d been there when her dog died and she’d held his hand after he slid into third base wrong and broke his ankle. If he and David are going to have a serious relationship, or even if they’re not, having Rachel’s approval means a lot to him.

“I’m sorry I was weird this morning.” Rachel tears another piece off of the scone, but she doesn’t eat it. “It’s strange, seeing you with someone else. And it’s not that I’m jealous, because I’m not. I just...I really, really want you to be happy. And I want to make sure that David knows that if he makes you unhappy, he’ll have to answer to me.” She says the words fiercely as she pops the piece of scone into her mouth. Her eyes are determined when they meet his. 

Patrick thinks back to the anxious look on David’s face when he’d asked about Rachel. “Oh, he knows.” 

“Yeah, I guess he probably does.” She grins at him, it’s the grin of the woman who’s been his co-conspirator for fifteen years. “Have a good night.” 

“You too.” Moments later he hears the back door close behind her. He puts the scone and the muffin that he set aside for David into a paper bag. 

The sign on the door of the bookshop says ‘Closed’ but the door opens when he tries the handle. Most of the boxes are gone and books line most of the shelves, interspersed with bottles of hand lotion, bath products and candles. Stacks of books and other products cover the table in the center of the room. There’s no sign of David. Patrick locks the door behind him.

“David?”

There’s no answer. Certain that David wouldn’t have left without locking the door, he heads towards the curtain that covers the door to the stockroom at the back of the store. On the other side, a mountain of boxes greets him, the former chaos of the sales floor has clearly been shifted in here.

“David?”

A sound that might have been his name comes from the back corner. He rounds the stack of boxes that’s hiding his view to find a battered brown leather couch tucked into the farthest corner of the room. On one end, David is sitting, his knees are drawn up to his chin and his face is hidden in the arms of his sweater.

“Hey.” There’s no response, so he sets the bag on a nearby box and sits beside David on the couch, not touching him, just waiting.

After a long moment David lifts his head. “Did I tell you why I bought the bookstore?.”

“You said you loved books.”

David shrugs. “Yeah. And I do.” He’s quiet for a long moment. “I had an art gallery. Before. I was dating this photographer. Sebastien Raine?” He looks at Patrick. He shakes his head, the name means nothing to him. “He, um, took all these photos of me when I was high or passed out or whatever? And then he put them up in another gallery and published them in a magazine without telling me.” Patrick feels sick to his stomach. He’s not sure if David wants to be touched but he desperately wants to pull him into his arms. “Everyone I worked with saw them. Artists, clients, everyone. I had to sell the gallery before it went under.”

“David…” 

“He just texted me. He’s coming here. He’s says he needs to talk to me.”

“Did he say when?”

“No. He’ll think it’s funny to make it a surprise.”

“Well. Just between you and me? He sounds like a terrible person.”

David nods and he drops his head back into his arms. When he lifts his head again, Patrick can see the tracks of tears on his cheeks. “You can leave if you want to.” David’s voice is thick and quiet. “You didn’t sign up for this.”

“You think I want to leave because your ex is an asshole?”

“It wouldn’t be the first time. Plus you haven’t seen the pictures yet.”

“David. I’m not going anywhere.” He can’t not touch David anymore. He slides his hand up David’s back, David unfolds himself to rest his head on Patrick’s shoulder. The sudden movement unbalances him and he slips sideways, pulling David down on top of him. Having David’s weight on top of him reminds him of last night and he expects David to take advantage of their position. Instead, David sighs and snuggles into his side, burrowing his face into Patrick’s shoulder. He wraps his arms around David, pulling him closer. 

He loses track of how long they lie there, wrapped together. He presses a kiss to the part of David’s head that he can reach, somewhere near his ear. 

“Did you bring treats?” His shoulder muffles David’s voice. He stretches out a hand. He can just reach the edge of the bag with his fingertips. He tugs it closer until he can get a firm grip. 

“We might have to sit up.” 

David whines at him, but he untangles his legs from Patrick’s so they can both sit up. Patrick opens the bag and hands David the chocolate espresso scone, keeping the muffin for himself. Instead of eating it right away, David holds the scone in his hand, the chocolate melting onto his fingers. “I knew this was a mistake.”

“You can have the muffin instead.” Patrick smiles at David, desperate to lighten the mood.

David smiles back at him for a second before his face changes. “Not that. This whole thing.” He gestures at the store, waving the scone through the air. “I should have taken the money from the sale of my gallery and walked away.”

“So dealing with Sebastien is so bad that you wish we’d never met?” He’s trying to keep his voice even, knowing that if Sebastien’s hold over David is so strong that he’s better to know that now rather than later.

David pulls a chunk off of the scone. “That’s not...no. I don’t wish that.” He puts the bite of scone in his mouth, a self-deprecating smirk sliding into place.

“Good.” Patrick leans into the word, trying to wring all of his feelings about David into the single syllable. Silence falls between them as he tries to think how to convince David that what they might have is more important that Sebastien or anyone else. “Come home with me.” He doesn’t want to leave David here alone. And, he wants him in his bed. David’s eyes meet his and he can see the fear and worry that David is holding back. Patrick brushes his fingers along the rise of David’s cheekbone. “Come home with me.” He leans forward so his lips are next to David’s ear. “I have more muffins.” He presses a kiss to David’s cheek.

David’s laugh is a little shaky, but it’s something. He stands up and holds out his hand. David’s fingers clench around his, holding more tightly than is comfortable. 

David’s hold doesn’t loosen until they’re upstairs in Patrick’s apartment. Inside the door, he lets go of Patrick’s hand so he can pace between the kitchen and the couch, as though all of his nervous energy is bubbling out at once. Patrick pulls a pizza out of the freezer and sticks it in the oven. He pours a couple of glasses of wine and hands one to David. David downs half the glass in a single gulp and lets out a deep breath. 

“What if he destroys the bookstore like he destroyed my gallery? I haven’t even opened yet!” David spins to face him. “Or your shop? What if he turns on you because you’re with me? Or the other stores? I was in the kitchen store yesterday and Ronnie was so nice, she gave me a free mug of apple cider. What if he destroys the entire neighbourhood? I don’t want to be responsible for turning this district into a ghetto!” David is panting slightly and he gulps down the rest of his wine.

“I don’t think he’s Godzilla.”

“I don’t know what that is.”

“It’s a giant monster that destroyed Tokyo...nevermind.” 

“He is a monster.” David mutters the words but there’s a flicker of a smile at the corner of his mouth. The timer on the oven goes off, making them both jump.

“I’m pretty sure no one here cares about some gallery exhibition from a few years ago.” He turns to pull the pizza out of the oven. He sets the pizza on top of the stove, flipping off the oven. “I know I don’t.”

Before Patrick can reach for the plates, David wraps his arms around him, holding him tightly. He runs his hands up and down David’s back, feeling some of the tension evaporate beneath his fingers. “You okay?”

“Most people aren’t on my side.” David’s fingers clutch his shoulders, digging in uncomfortably.

“You think I’d be on Sebastien’s side?” He doesn’t care about David’s past. The stories he’s shared seem impossibly distant, like they’re part of a television show.

“Most people are on the side that gives them the best entertainment value.”

“Huh.” He pulls out of the hug so he can see David’s face. “I think I’d rather have you entertain me in other ways.” His voice is low and rough and he plants a kiss on David’s lips before he can respond. “Pizza’s ready.”

They finish the pizza. David eats three quarters of it, but Patrick doesn’t mind, he’s just happy to see David returning to his usual self. David finishes the last bite of pizza and looks sadly at his empty plate. “I think you promised me more muffins.”

He itches to bake for David. Something decadent and intricate, with complex flavors that mirror David’s complicated personality. “How about cupcakes instead?”

David hums at him and his eyes light up. “That’s an acceptable substitute.”

“Okay. C’mon.” He holds out a hand to David as he moves towards the door.

“Where are we going?”

“Downstairs. I’m going to bake you some cupcakes.”

In the kitchen, he drags one of the stools from the front counter so that David can sit and watch while he bakes. He grabs an extra apron from the back of the door. “Take off your sweater.”

David raises a perfectly manicured eyebrow at him. “I thought you were doing the baking.”

“I am. It’s just that flour gets everywhere and I wouldn’t want to ruin your Calvin Klein sweatshirt.”

“I’m not sure what’s more horrifying, the possibility that I might get dirty or the fact that you think I would wear Calvin Klein.” David pulls off his sweater. Underneath he’s wearing a tight, white t-shirt. Patrick swallows to look at him. David smirks knowingly and steps into the main room to set his sweater on the counter, out of the range of any baking mishaps. 

Patrick pulls up the recipe on his phone and gathers the ingredients. Dark chocolate and pistachios join the flour, sugar, butter and eggs on the counter. He sets up a double-boiler and pulls out a cutting board and his kitchen knife to chop the chocolate. David is watching him intently, his eyes glued to the motion of Patrick’s hands as they stack and chop the chocolate squares. It shouldn’t feel sexy, but the heat in David’s eyes makes it hard to concentrate. 

While he’s waiting for the water to boil, he mixes the dry ingredients, pretending not to notice as David steals a couple of pieces of chocolate from the cutting board.

“When did you learn to bake?” David places the second piece of chocolate on his tongue, Patrick’s eyes are on his mouth as he savours it. 

“Mmm, my mom taught me when I was little.” The water in the double-boiler is boiling, so he turns down the temperature a little and puts the chocolate in the bowl to melt. “It was our thing on Sunday mornings.”

“That sounds nice.” 

“Yeah, it was until I turned thirteen and it wasn’t cool to bake with your mom anymore. Then when Rachel and I moved in together, I picked it up again.” He glances at David, not sure how he’ll take the introduction of Rachel into the conversation. 

David snaps off a piece of the unused chocolate. “Do you miss...that? What you had with Rachel?”

“No.” David raises his eyebrows doubtfully. “I don’t. I get to work with my best friend every day and we don’t fight about why it’s not working and I don’t feel guilty about why it doesn’t feel right.”

“Hmm.”

The chocolate is melted, so he takes it off the heat to cool. He creams the butter and sugar together, adding the eggs one at a time. In between bursts of the mixer, he looks at David. “What about you, any childhood traditions?”

“Does spending Sunday mornings conditioning my mom’s wigs count?”

“Uh…” He’s grateful that he has to turn the mixer on again to add the chocolate. He passes the mostly empty bowl to David. He offers him a spoon, but David is already sticking his finger in the bowl to capture the leftover chocolate. David sucks the chocolate from his index finger. He stares at David’s mouth for a long moment. When he lifts his eyes, David is smirking at him, his eyes dark and knowing. Without breaking eye contact, David reaches out and drags his finger through the bowl again. Patrick swallows and looks down at the mixer.

David picks up the conversation as though nothing had happened. “We didn’t really do that kind of thing. My parents were usually off working or travelling. The closest thing I had to a tradition was rescuing my sister from drug lords and dictators around the world.” David says the words so matter-of-factly that he might have been reading the back of a cereal box. He sticks his finger back in the bowl for more chocolate. 

Patrick forces himself to focus on measuring the dry ingredients and adding them to the mixing bowl. He pulls out a muffin tin, sliding it across the counter to David along with a couple of designs of muffin wrappers. He forces his voice to stay steady. “Put one of these in each cup?”

Once David has put the wrappers into the tin, he ladles the batter into the cups, taking care not to drip on the edges. He slides the muffin tin into the oven and sets the timer for twenty minutes. 

“So now we just wait?”

“Well, I was going to make frosting.” David’s eyes light up at the thought of frosting and he runs his finger through the empty bowl again, sticking the tip of his finger into his mouth. It’s all Patrick can handle. He moves to David’s side of the counter, resting his hands on the edge, his arms bracketing either side of David. Before he can say anything, David’s hands grip his hips, pulling Patrick between his knees, his advantage is lost. 

There’s a smear of chocolate on David’s lower lip. Patrick wipes it away roughly with his thumb. Someone is panting. It might be him. David’s face is flushed, his lips parted, so maybe it’s both of them. He licks the chocolate off his thumb, David’s eyes follow the movement, his eyes hot and dark. 

“I thought you were making frosting?” David breaths out the words, even as the grip on Patrick’s hips tightens.

“I need to do this first.” He leans to kiss David, his eyes following David’s lips until the last second. David smiles into the kiss, his lips curving upwards until they touch and his mouth moves to meet Patrick’s. David pulls him closer, his hands splaying over his ass, his fingertips digging in. He slides his hands up David’s arms, relishing the feel of bare skin instead of his usual bulky sweaters. David licks at his lips until he opens them for David’s tongue. He’s lost track of what he was supposed to be doing, he chases along David’s jaw, nuzzling his ear--the timer sounds with a loud beep, making him jump. 

He takes the cupcakes out of the oven, testing a couple with a toothpick to make sure they’re done. 

“Are they ruined since you didn’t make the frosting in time?” David frowns at him anxiously.

“No, they need to cool first.” He pulls out the butter and powdered sugar and a bag of shelled pistachios. He makes quick work of chopping the nuts. He puts the butter in the mixer turning it on high until it’s soft and creamy. He adds the powdered sugar, turning down the speed when a puff of sugar escapes, coating the counter and the mixer with a light dusting of white. 

He gets the frosting to the right consistency, adds some vanilla and shuts off the mixer. David reaches towards the bowl of frosting and Patrick smacks his hand away. He spoons the frosting into a piping bag, handing the beater to David. David’s tongue slides in and out of the gaps in the paddle, almost undoing him. He tidies up the kitchen until the cupcakes are cool enough for frosting. Once they’re ready, he pipes a swirl of frosting onto each one, the creamy white icing a perfect contrast against the near black of the chocolate cupcakes. 

David puts down the beater and smirks at him. Patrick can tell he knows what he’s doing to him. He sprinkles a pinch of the chopped pistachios over each cupcake and grates some leftover chocolate over top. He slides the finished cupcake across the counter to David. Despite the mound of icing on top, David takes a huge bite. Frosting smears across his upper lip. Patrick leans across the counter, one hand tilting David’s chin towards his. He kisses him slowly, licking the icing from David’s lips. David gives a tiny groan as Patrick’s tongue runs along his upper lip.

“Patrick.” David’s voice is low and breathy.

“I know.” He can feel the longing flowing off of David, ricocheting back and forth between them. “Upstairs?”

“Yeah.” David’s lips are still on his, the kiss unbroken despite the whispered words they’re sharing. “Bring the cupcakes.”

Back upstairs Patrick barely has time to set the cupcakes on the kitchen table before David’s body is surrounding him, his long arms locked around his neck, his legs bracketing his own, the weight of his body heavy as he presses Patrick against the counter. If last night had been slow and sweet, this was something different, something demanding and urgent. David nips at his lower lip, his tongue seeking entry. 

David is only wearing a t-shirt. Patrick pulls roughly at the hem, desperate to feel David’s skin beneath his fingers. 

“Bed. Now.” David pulls away from their kiss long enough to say the words. He moves them across the apartment, narrowly missing running into Patrick’s couch on the way. David backs him onto the bed, tugging impatiently at his sweater. “Off.”

His sweater has barely hit the floor when David is pushing him back onto the bed. He sighs as David’s weight holds him in place. “Mmm. You like that?” David kisses him, slowly and deeply before capturing his hands and pinning them over his head, making his hips buck involuntarily. 

“It’s okay, I guess.” He gasps the words, belaying his attempt to tease David. 

“Ha.” David wraps his left hand around Patrick’s wrists, running his right down his arm to his nipple. The quick pressure makes his hips twitch again and David smiles in satisfaction before rolling his hips in response. 

“God, David.” Words are almost impossible but he needs to tell David what he wants. “I need...I want...”

David rolls his hips again and he feels it through his entire body. “Mmm hmm?”

“Less...less clothes.”

David releases his hands, making him whine at the loss. He runs his hands down Patricks’ sides, before undoing the button of his jeans. David rocks back on his heels between Patrick’s legs, tugging his jeans down and off. He makes a face at Patrick’s socks, quickly dispatching them to join the rest of his clothes on the floor. 

He’s completely exposed, watching David through hooded eyes as he strips off his own clothes and kneels between his legs, just out of reach. David’s eyes run down his body and it’s too much, he needs David to touch him. “David…please...”

David slides his hands up his bare legs, resting them on the inside of his thighs, his fingers scratching softly at the exposed skin. Even that gentle touch is almost too much, he shivers, desperate for more. David’s dark eyes meet his, a smirk quirks at the edge of his lips. “What do you want?”

Patrick shakes his head, he wants everything, he wants anything. “Just...touch me...please?” David’s smile gets bigger and he wraps his hand around Patrick’s cock even as he bends to kiss him. The kiss is almost lazy, deep and slow in direct contrast to the increasing rhythm of the stroke of David’s hand. The tension inside him builds and builds and builds until he cries out into David’s kiss and comes between them. David kisses him again before pulling back to give him time to recover. 

David slips off of the bed and Patrick opens his eyes just enough to watch him walk, naked, to the bathroom. He returns quickly with a cloth that he applies to Patrick’s stomach and chest. He tosses the cloth to one side. Before he can settle beside him, Patrick hooks his ankle around David’s leg and flips him onto his back, grinning at David’s surprised expression before he bends to kiss him. “And what do you want?”

David grins at him, quick and bright and he cups the back of his head to bring him close for a kiss. Even as he holds Patrick’s lips against his, he bucks his hips, trying to break Patrick’s hold. “Oh, it’s like that, is it?” He grins into David’s kiss, settling his body more firmly over top of David, squirming as David scrapes his nails down his sides. “That tickles.”

“I know.” David does it again before putting both hands on Patrick’s ass and grinding them together. He’s having fun, he realizes. Even as he wants David more than he’s ever wanted anyone, David’s easy playfulness is something he’s never had before. Sex had always been something to concentrate on, to take seriously, not like this. He can’t contain the laugh that seeps out of him. Beneath him, David freezes, a worried look on his face. 

He laughs again before reaching to kiss David messily, lips and tongue seeking as the mood shifts. He loses himself in the press of David’s mouth, the brush of his tongue, the scratch of stubble against his lower lip. He wants to stay here, kissing David until his lips are sore and tired but he wants more too. He kisses down David’s neck and David arches beneath him. His lips find the crest of David’s shoulder and he sucks a bruise into his skin, making David whimper as he runs his tongue over the mark. 

“I should have known…” David breaths out the words as Patrick runs his tongue over his nipple. 

“Known what?” He sucks David’s nipple to a point, blowing gently so he can watch the goosebumps spread across David’s skin. 

“That you...that you’d want to tease me.” David’s eyes are closed and he runs his fingers through Patrick’s hair, tugging gently. 

“Is that what I’m doing?” He bites down and David squirms under him. 

“Fuck. Patrick.” He presses a kiss to David’s nipple and he quivers in response. David’s cock is hard, pressing into his hip and he can’t draw it out any longer. He pushes himself down David’s body, kissing the seam of David’s hip before taking his cock into his mouth. He’s not going to be able to do what David did for him yesterday. Before he can overthink it, David’s cock twitches in his mouth and he moans beneath him. He brings his hand up for some extra friction and David moans again as he finds a rhythm between his hand and his mouth. 

“Close...I’m close.” It’s a mumble and he takes David as deep as he can as his hips twitch and he’s coming into his mouth. 

He pulls off with a pop. He can taste David on his tongue, unfamiliar, but not unpleasant. David tugs at his shoulder and he collapses beside him, flipping the covers over them as he wraps his arms around David, lips pressing a kiss to David’s shoulder as sleep claims him. 

When he wakes up David is sitting up beside him, flipping through the copy of The Night Circus that he’d lent Patrick. “What time is it?” He props himself up on one elbow so he can see out the window. It’s dark outside, the sun is just fully set.

“Just after nine.” David kisses the corner of his forehead. “Did you like it?”

He blushes bright red. “Um…”

David smirks at him. “I meant the book.”

“Oh. Uh, I’m not sure?” The story is coming together, but his practical side struggles with the magical elements of the book. 

“Okay, listen.” David flips ahead of the old receipt that Patrick is using as a bookmark. He leans back on the pillow, his cheek pressed against David’s bicep as David reads the words out loud.

_“...the thrill of being surrounded by something wondrous and fantastical, only magnified and focused directly at her. The feel of his skin against hers reverberates across her entire body, though his fingers remain entwined in hers.”_

Being read to is soothing. David’s arm is warm beneath his cheek, the cadence of his voice rises and falls with the words. It reminds him of when his parents would read to him as a child. This feels safe and warm just like it did back then.

“What was your favorite book when you were little?” Beside him, David stops flipping the pages of the book and his body goes still. He tilts his head so he can see David’s face, he looks embarrassed.

“I liked The Secret Garden.”

He searches in his mind for the plot of the book. “Wasn’t that about…”

“...a spoiled rich kid who was mean to everyone until she finds a hidden garden?”

“David…” It’s a little too on point and he can imagine David as a little boy, wishing he could find a secret garden that could make him happy. He struggles to sit up, wrapping his arms around David.

They sit together for a long moment, David’s head resting on his shoulder. David lifts his head. “What about you?”

“I liked Stuart Little. A mouse who got to have adventures, I loved that.” The details of the book are fuzzy to his adult mind, but he remembers his mom reading Stuart’s adventures to him.

“That’s one way to look at it.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He frowns at David, his eyebrows drawn together. 

“It’s just...never mind.” David chews on the side of his lip.

“David.” 

“Fine. It’s just that it’s also the story of someone who’s different and trying to fit into their family and be accepted.”

“I…” He stares at David. “I never put that together.”

David gives him a half grimace and he sets The Night Circus onto the bedside table. “Do we get to have cupcakes now?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Night Circus is by Erin Morgenstern, The Secret Garden is by Frances Hodgson Burnett and Stuart Little is by EB White.


	5. Chocolate Chip Cookie

When Patrick wakes up in the morning, David’s arms and one leg are wrapped around him. It should be uncomfortable, but it just feels cozy. He snuggles closer and David stirs, his arms tightening around his chest. 

“Mmmpf. What time is it?” David’s voice is deep and sleepy and a shiver runs down Patrick’s spine.

“Just after five. Go back to sleep.”

“In the morning?” Even thickened with sleep, David’s voice sounds outraged.

“Go back to sleep, I’ll see you in a few hours.” Patrick disentangles himself from David’s arms, giving him a peck on the lips. David kisses him back and seconds later Patrick hears his breathing even out as he drifts back to sleep. 

Downstairs, David’s sweater sits on top of the counter, neatly folded. Patrick leaves it where it is, wanting to wait until it’s closer to what David considers morning before he takes it upstairs. In the kitchen, he tidies up the last of the dishes from last night and pulls out the baking. He’s setting the first container on the counter as Rachel comes in. 

“Is David here again or did you steal his sweater?”

“Good morning to you too.”

“Good morning. So?” She trades her jacket for an apron on the back of the door and takes the ingredients she’ll need for the morning’s breakfast wraps out of the fridge.

“Fine. He’s upstairs.”

“Seems like it might be serious.”

“I don’t know, it’s only been a week.” Avoiding her eyes, he pulls the second box of baking off the shelf and sets it on top of the other one.

“Do you want it to be serious?” He meets her eyes, knowing that she’ll be able to see the answer in his face. “Oh. Patrick…” She reaches across and squeezes his hand. 

He clears his throat and picks up the boxes. “It’s too soon. I know it’s too soon. So I’m trying to do what you told me.”

She laughs at him. “What did I tell you?”

“To let things go and see where it takes me.” 

Her face grows serious and she smiles at him softly. “How’s that going?”

He pauses in the doorway with the boxes in his hands. “It’s fucking terrifying.” Rachel’s laughter follows him into the front room. 

At a quarter to seven he picks up David’s sweater and goes upstairs. He knows it’s still too early to expect David to be awake, but he won’t have a chance to step away after they open. When he opens the door, he can see David wrapped in his comforter, fully immersed except for a disarray of black hair. Patrick watches him for a moment, a small smile creasing his face before he sets the sweater at the end of the bed and turns to leave as quietly as possible.

“Dommgoff.” The indistinct sound comes from the bed. A pair of sleepy dark eyes are squinting at him over the covers.

“Did you say something?” David rolls his eyes at him but he pulls the edge of the comforter under his chin.

“Don’t go.”

“I have to open the cafe.” The temptation to stay with David is almost irresistible. 

“I know. But come here first. Just for a second.”

He can’t resist, moving to sit on the edge of the bed beside David. David frees a hand from the cocoon of his blankets and he tugs Patrick down to him. The kiss is slow and lazy, better suited to a summer afternoon or a winter day in front of a fire. He kisses David a second time, wanting nothing more than to curl up back under the covers. “I have to go. I’ll see you soon.” With one last kiss he tears himself away, making it downstairs just in time to open the front door.

The coffee shop is busy when David comes down and Patrick barely has time to give him a kiss on the cheek and slide him a coffee and a muffin before moving to the next customer. David grins at him as he holds the door for a group of college students and then he’s gone. 

The rush lasts longer than usual and he and Twyla settle into a routine with him running the cash and serving the baked goods while she makes the more complicated drinks. The line is moving smoothly so he notices when the man in the ragged sweater brings their flow to a halt.

“What a wonderfully unassertive establishment.”

“Um...thank you? Can I take your order?” Up close, the man’s sweater looks almost unfinished or maybe the man is wearing it inside out? Patrick dislikes him instantly. He grimaces, hoping it looks enough like a smile to be welcoming. Behind the man, the line gets even longer.

“I would love to photograph you.” The man leans closer and Patrick suppresses the urge to step away.

“Okay, well, this is a coffee shop, so can I get you a coffee?”

“Very well.” The man rakes him with his eyes. “I will have a decaf caramel soy latte with an extra shot and extra cream.” 

Patrick narrows his eyes at the pretentious order but he punches it into the register. “And your name?”

“And please don’t put a sleeve on the cup, I like to feel the energy of the coffee with all of my senses.”

“Got it.” He can barely keep from rolling his eyes. “Your name?”

“Sebastien Raine.” It’s as though someone had turned off all the other sound in the room. Patrick stares at David’s ex, the man David had described as a monster, the man who had ruined his gallery. He rings up the order, desperate to warn David that Sebastien is on his way.

“Twy...can you take over the cash for a second?” He smiles an apology to the next person in line before he steps away and pulls out his phone to text David.

**Patrick: **Sebastien is here.  
**David: **What? What did he want?  
**Patrick: **Coffee I think. But I assume he’s coming to see you.

He waits for a second, but there’s no response to his last text. He hopes his message hasn’t triggered David’s anxiety.

**Patrick: **I’m here if you need me.

Worry about Sebastien lurks in the back of his mind for the rest of the morning even as he’s kept busy with the press of customers. It’s the end of the lunch rush when Stevie appears at the side of the counter, a frantic look on her face. Patrick passes over a vanilla latte and a cinnamon bun to a customer and murmurs an apology to the next person in line. He gestures Stevie to the gap at the end of the counter.

“It’s David. I think...I think you should go over there.” 

Sebastien. His heart sinks. “Can you run a cash register?” Stevie shrugs and then nods, he waves her towards the cash before apologetically pushing through the crowd and running across the street.

Inside the bookstore, David and Sebastien are standing in front of the counter. Sebastien’s hands are cupped around David’s face, David’s eyes meet Patrick’s and something in them stabs through him. It’s a plea, a warning, full of desperation. The other man turns at the sound of the bell, releasing David’s face.

“Oh, the little barista from across the street.” Sebastien looks him up and down. “He doesn’t look like the pinnacle of the cultural conversation, but I’d be willing to include him if you want. It would give the project a certain bourgeois feel that reflects the bravery of your current...circumstances.” 

Patrick ignores him, his eyes focused on David. “Everything okay?”

“Yup. Sebastian was just leaving.” David’s voice is hollow, as though he’s speaking through a tube.

“Was I?” Sebastian steps closer to David, crowding him against the counter. “Just one photo, David. To cap off the exhibit.”

“No.” David’s voice is quiet and shaky, but he looks defiantly at Sebastien. “You can’t use any of my photos.”

“You need to leave.” Sebastien’s attention moves to Patrick, considering, before he turns back to David.

“This one hasn’t seen the photos, has he?” Sebastien picks up his coffee cup from the counter. He directs his next words to Patrick. “I can’t believe you’re not familiar with my work. Once you’ve seen the haunting photos I took of David, you’ll see him in a whole new light.” Sebastien taps the email address on the side of his coffee cup. “I’ll make sure to send you some hi-res versions.”

Patrick comes to stand beside them. He wishes he could force Sebastien to step back, but there’s no space to do that without forcing his way between them. He crosses his arms and glares at Sebastien. “You’re not welcome here. You need to leave.” Beside him, David radiates tension, his face is closed off in a way Patrick has never seen before.

Sebastien finally steps back and Patrick steps forward, pleased as Sebastien takes another half step backwards. David stands against the counter like he’s rooted there, his hands clenched into fists.

“We’re not finished with this conversation.” Sebastien spins and storms from the store, the door slams behind him.

Patrick turns to David, but before he can ask any questions, David collapses onto his shoulder, as though someone has let all the air out of a balloon. A sob escapes him as Patrick’s arms automatically come around his back. 

“Shhh.” Patrick strokes his hands up and down David’s back. “I’ve got you.”

It feels like hours that they stand together. He thinks David is crying, but his face is turned away and he can’t be sure so he holds him as tightly as he can, rubbing circles into his back. When David lifts his head, the mask Patrick had seen earlier is still in place. “You need to leave.” 

“The lunch rush is probably over, I can stay if you want.”

David laughs, it’s harsh and it scrapes on his skin. “That’s really nice, but that’s not what I meant.” David crosses his arms and looks at him. His eyes are red and there’s a hardness to them that wasn’t there before.

Fear lances through him. “What did you mean?”

“When Sebastien sends you those photos, you’re going to be looking for an excuse to leave. You’ll leave me anyway, for once I’d like it to be on my terms.”

“David…” Waking up beside David feels like it happened a million years ago. “I’m not…”

“Don’t say you won’t do that.” David interrupts him. “It’s what everyone does to me. You’re not that much better than everyone else.”

“Maybe not, but I didn’t put photos of you in a gallery without your consent.” He’s getting angry. He tries to push it away, knowing it will just confirm everything David is thinking about him.

“What do you want from me?” David’s voice rasps against him, accusing. “Everyone wants something.”

He doesn’t know how to break through that mask. Involuntarily, his hand reaches for David, but David crosses his arms more tightly across his chest. “Okay.” His voice cracks. At the door, he looks back but David’s eyes are on the floor. Patrick closes his eyes for a moment before he steps out onto the street.

Stevie is still at the counter when he comes into the coffee shop. 

“Thanks for your help.” He’s exhausted and he wants to go upstairs and crawl into bed.

“Is everything okay?”

He can’t think about where to begin. “You should go see David. He could use a friend.”

Stevie narrows her eyes at him, but she picks up her bag and goes to the door. “You know David’s been in a lot of relationships, right?” He nods, not sure where she’s going with this. “That doesn’t mean he’s good at it. Probably the opposite. So if you want to make it work, you might have to be the one who’s good at the relationship part of things.”

David has been clear about the relationship he wants. He gives Stevie a half smile and shrugs.

“Just think about it.” The door closes behind Stevie and he’s alone except for the handful of customers who are enjoying their afternoon coffees. He takes a deep breath. He’ll have to face Rachel and he knows she’ll be able to tell instantly that something is wrong. 

In the kitchen, Rachel is cleaning up the remains from the lunch rush. She looks up when he comes in. “I think we need to...are you okay?”

“I…” There’s a lump in his throat and pain is reverberating through him as his conversation with David plays on a loop in his mind. “Would it be okay if we didn’t talk about this now?” There’s a tremor in his voice that he can’t quite disguise. 

Rachel wipes her hands on a towel and wraps her arms around him. He hugs her back, grateful for the comfort and the familiarity of it. “I’m here whenever you want.”

“Thanks, Rach.”

“You know, you’ve been baking up a storm lately. I’m okay for the rest of the day if you want to take the afternoon off.”

“I...that sounds really great, actually.” 

Rachel gives him one last squeeze before she releases him. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Upstairs the cupcakes he’d baked for David last night are still sitting on the kitchen table. Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe it would have been better to stay downstairs where he could be busy. He puts the cupcakes in the cupboard so he won’t have to look at them. David had made the bed before he left that morning, there’s no sign that he’d been cocooned in Patrick’s covers mere hours before. 

He doesn’t know what to do. He’s not ready to give up on what he and David have together, but he can’t get past the finality of David’s words, the steely look on his face as David asked him to leave. He sits on the bed, leaning back against the headboard. Jaw clenched, he tips his head back. The black and white cover of The Night Circus catches his eyes from the bedside table. Maybe the story will distract him. He picks up it when he sees the book of poetry underneath. He sets The Night Circus aside, reaching for the other book instead. He flips through the pages until he finds the poem he remembers David reading. 

_“Who hurt you, once,_  
_so far beyond repair_  
_that you would meet each overture_  
_with curling lip?_  
_While we, who knew you well,_  
_your friends, (the focus of your scorn)_  
_could see your courage in the face of fear,_  
_your wit, and thoughtfulness,_  
_and will remember you_  
_with something close to love.”_

If it had reminded him of David when he’d first heard it, now it’s like a blow to his stomach. He knows David’s life has been filled with people like Sebastien who hurt him and used him. It must hurt every time he tries to put himself out there. The two of them had come together so quickly and intensely, no wonder David was scared of what might be between them. But he can’t let David push him away. At least not without trying to save what they have. He pulls out his phone, typing and erasing a message until he gets it right.

**Patrick: **I’m not going to hurt you.

There’s a long pause before David responds.

**David: **You can’t know that.

He squeezes his eyes shut, wanting to defend himself but not wanting to argue. With a grimace, he opens his email. The message Sebastien promised is waiting for him. His finger hovers over the message, wanting to delete it. He sighs, running a hand over his face. The pictures wait, like a digital sword of Damocles, posed to destroy the thing he wants most. David won’t believe that Patrick still wants him until he knows he’s seen the photos. He takes a deep breath and opens the email.

There are three photos attached. He taps on the first one and an image of David fills the screen. He’s naked, tied to the metal frame of a bed, the sheet artfully arranged to keep the photo from being X-rated. His eyes are open, pupils wide and unfocused as he stares past the camera. Several marks dot his bare chest. On the small screen, he can’t tell if they’re bite marks or something else. He swallows and swipes to the next photo.

The setting for this photo is the same. David is kneeling on the bed, his head dropping forward, his hands tied behind his back. Someone’s hand grips his hair, destroying the carefully styled locks. If nothing else he’s grateful he can’t see David’s eyes. As quickly as he can he swipes to the last photo.

In the final photo, David is lying on his stomach, staring over his shoulder at the camera. It would be a beautiful photo if it wasn’t for the empty look in his eyes and the red outline of a handprint on his left butt cheek. With a snarl, Patrick closes the email, deleting it and emptying his recycle bin for good measure. His hands are shaking.

It’s only been two nights but his bed feels empty without David. He lies in the middle of the mattress, staring at the ceiling, eyes tracing the outline of the shadows from the streetlights. He can’t imagine waking up one day to find photos, those photos, on the walls of a gallery without your consent. 

He doesn’t know how to bring David back to him. It’s too soon for David to trust him, too soon for him to share what he already feels for David. It’s one o’clock in the morning when he finally falls asleep, his conversation with David playing over and over in his mind.

***

In the morning he’s setting up the coffee makers when Rachel comes in. He follows her into the kitchen to get the muffins and scones. 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Um…” He doesn’t want Rachel to feel like she needs to protect him. “I think he got scared.”

“Of you?” Rachel raises her eyebrows at him. 

He laughs weakly. “No, of...this.” He gestures vaguely. “David used to date some awful people and one of them came back to remind him that he doesn’t deserve anything better.”

“Patrick…” Rachel touches the back of his hand and smiles at him sympathetically. 

“He does deserve better.” The words come out more fiercely than he intends.

“Maybe you should tell him that.” 

“Yeah.”

After the morning rush, he makes a caramel macchiato the way David likes it and puts a chocolate chip muffin in a bag. He picks up the black marker and a cardboard sleeve. Tapping the marker on the counter for a second, he thinks about what he wants to say. **I saw the photos. I’m not going anywhere. -P xo** Twyla arrives for her shift as he finishes writing. 

“Can you take this to David at the bookstore?”

Twyla gives him a puzzled look but she shrugs and gathers up the coffee and the muffin. Twyla returns ahead of a wave of customers. He’s desperate to know any detail from her conversation with David, but she doesn’t say anything as they fall into the routine of taking orders and making coffee. It’s silly to think David would have Twyla pass on a message. Knowing David, he probably doesn’t remember her name. His anxiety grows. What if David cuts him out of his life? His phone buzzes in his pocket.

**David: **Thank you for the coffee.  
**David: **And the muffin.

There’s no mention of yesterday’s text conversation or the message on the cup. Still, it’s a start. 

**Patrick: **You’re welcome.  
**Patrick: **Same thing tomorrow?

The three little dots appear below his message as though David is writing and erasing his response. 

**David: **Can I have a scone?

He laughs to himself. If David is asking for things, maybe everything will be okay. 

Back in the kitchen after the lunch rush, he searches through the recipes he’s saved on his phone. He settles on a recipe for dried cherry and pistachio scones; the rich tartness of the cherries and the salty snap of the pistachios reminds him of David. 

He chops the dried cherries, wishing David was there to steal pieces from the edge of the cutting board. He flushes at the memory of David licking chocolate off his finger. The recipe doesn’t call for it, but he cuts up some chocolate to drizzle over the finished scones. 

As he waits for the scones to bake, he cleans up the kitchen, wondering what to do with himself. He doesn’t feel up to the banter of his regular friends. He misses David. The timer beeps and he pulls the scones out of the oven, setting them on the rack to cool. 

He’s just finished drizzling on the chocolate when Rachel pokes her head around the door. “Do you want to get a drink?”

“Is this a pity drink because you’re feeling sorry for me?”

She laughs and shrugs. “Maybe. But also I’m your friend and that’s what friends are supposed to do.”

“Okay.” He puts the scones into a container for morning and follows Rachel out the front door. The brew pub down the street makes craft beer and plays Blue Jays games, two things he hopes will be a good distraction. They order their drinks at sit at one of the tables. On TV, the Jays are losing 5-2 to the Orioles in the bottom of the third inning.

“I can’t believe how bad they are this year.” He nods at the TV.

“They’re not bad, they’re just young.” She’s not wrong. Some of the players are exciting and the team is officially rebuilding. Still, they lose a lot. “The pitching is terrible, though.”

“Can I join you?” He looks over to see Stevie standing beside their table.

“Sure. This is Rachel, my business partner and…”

“...former fiance. We met yesterday when you abruptly abandoned your business.”

“Hey.” His protest lacks effort. Stevie slides into the booth beside Rachel and a jolt of nerves bursts through him. Bringing the two of them together might not have been the best idea.

“Have you...um, have you seen David?”

Stevie looks sympathetic. “Give him some time. A lot of people have hurt him.”

“Yeah.” He runs his finger through the condensation on the outside of his glass. A groan ripples through the bar as the Orioles hit another home run increasing their lead to 7-2.

“In the meantime, I think you owe me a drink for all the free labor I did on your behalf yesterday.”

“You were the one who came to find me.” He’s happy to buy Stevie a drink but he doesn’t want to make it too easy.

“It’s not my fault you fell into my trap.” He grins and waves to their server. Stevie places her order and looks at him carefully. “David’s doing a soft launch of the bookstore on Friday.” A wave of longing sweeps through him as Stevie continues. “You should go.”

He shakes his head. “David doesn’t want me there.”

“Patrick. If you don’t go David will think it’s because you don’t care.”

He sighs, unconvinced. He looks to Rachel for support. She raises an eyebrow at him. “Do you remember prom?”

“Um, sure?” They’d broken up three days before and he’d ended up going alone while Rachel went with a group of her friends. 

“I was really glad that you showed up.”

“You never told me that.”

“I didn’t want to look too needy.” Rachel grins at him and he can’t help but return her smile.

“Fine. I’ll go.” Even though he’s worried about the outcome, his heart skips at the thought of having an excuse to see David.

Stevie looks back and forth between them. “So you two have known each other a long time.”

“Since we were seven.”

Stevie’s eyes light up and she turns to Rachel. “You must have some good stories then.”

“Oh, god.” He takes a drink of his beer, trying to think of a way to deflect the conversation.

“You mean like the time when we were twelve and Patrick had his first solo in the school play and he missed his mark and danced off the stage?” Stevie starts to laugh.

“I told Mrs Peterson not to make me do so many twirls.” Stevie laughs even harder.

“Or the time we were fourteen and we broke into my parents' liquor cabinet and then he felt guilty the next day so he confessed?”

“Patrick, I’m so disappointed.” Stevie shakes her head at him.

“I was the one who got in trouble. My parents thought he was great for doing the right thing.” Rachel rolls her eyes at him.

“Okay, but you got me back when you and Kristy got drunk that time and I had to sneak out to pick you up. My parents were so mad that I took the car without asking at two in the morning.”

It’s been a long time since he last thought about some of these stories. Before when he thought back to his history with Rachel it had been to try to examine the details to find the point where things had stopped working. For a long time he’d thought if he could just pinpoint that exact moment then he could fix it, like debugging a piece of computer code. Now, without the overlay of guilt and uncertainty, the stories are fun again. 

The three of them stay until the game ends, swapping stories and bemoaning the outcome of the game. When the Blue Jays strike out in the bottom of the ninth, he slides back his chair, leaving Rachel and Stevie to continue to trade stories of their childhoods. 

He looks in the window of the bookstore as he passes. The lights are still on, but there’s no sign of David. From what he can see, the clutter of unpacking has been tidied away and the store looks ready to open. Friday. Two days from now. He can make it that long without seeing David. If he has to.

He’s not ready to call it a night. He picks up The Night Circus from the bedside table. There are only fifty pages to go so he settles into bed, determined to finish the story before he goes to sleep.

He finishes the book, but he doesn’t feel relaxed like he’d hoped. The ending was sad, only adding to his loneliness. Wishing David was beside him, he rolls over and stares at the wall until he falls asleep.

***

It’s hard to get out of bed in the morning. He hasn’t been sleeping, staying up late with his mind racing, arguing against himself about what to say to David. He drags himself downstairs, Rachel gives him a concerned look when she comes in, but she squeezes his arm and goes to work in the kitchen. 

The lack of sleep and the lack of David are making him irritable. When they run out of scones in the display case he snaps at Twyla even though he knows it was his fault for not stocking the case properly. 

After the morning rush he makes another caramel macchiato and slips one of the new cherry-pistachio scones into a bag. He writes another message on the cardboard sleeve: **I’m here when you want to talk.**

Twyla doesn’t even comment when he asks her to take the coffee, scone and The Night Circus across the street to David. David’s text comes shortly after Twyla returns to the coffee shop.

**David: **Did you like it?  
**David: **The book, I mean.

Relief flows through him that David is willing to talk to him, even if it’s about books and not something more important.

**Patrick: **I thought it was okay.  
**David: **Just okay?  
**Patrick: **I thought it was a little slow? And magic isn’t really my thing.

David doesn’t respond right away and he worries that he’s made things worse by not loving a book that David loves. Finally, the three dots appear below his message.

**David: **Not everyone can have my good taste.

Patrick grins to himself. He needs to ask him about Friday. Despite what Stevie and Rachel said, he’s not sure if he should go to the opening of David’s store.

**Patrick: **Congrats on opening tomorrow

His heart sinks when he sees David’s response. 

**David: **Who told you?  
**Patrick: **Stevie  
**David: **Oh. That’s okay.  
**David: **It’s supposed to be small. I don’t want it to be a big deal.

Patrick bites his lip. He desperately wants to go tomorrow but it seems like David would rather he stayed away. 

**Patrick: **I guess I shouldn’t come then.

Once again there’s a long pause before David responds.

**David: **You can come  
**David: **If you want to

Do you want me to? He types out the message before erasing it. He doesn’t want to give David the opportunity to give him an answer that he doesn’t want to hear. 

**Patrick: **See you tomorrow

***

He makes David’s coffee again in the morning. The soft launch for the bookstore is scheduled for two o’clock. He doesn’t know what to expect, David said he wants it to be small, but everyone is talking about it. He puts a scone in a bag to go with the coffee. He’s about to ask Twyla to run it across the street when Rachel appears beside him.

“I’ll take that.”

“Rach…” A million thoughts go through his mind. Don’t screw this up for me and be careful with David and I need this to turn out okay.

“Relax.” Rachel pats him on the shoulder as she picks up the cup and the muffin. “It will be fine.”

She’s halfway out the door when he calls after her. “Will it?”

It’s half an hour before Rachel returns and Patrick spends most of it pacing behind the counter. Twyla rolls her eyes at him before going to the kitchen, presumably to stay out of his way. Finally, Rachel returns. She has a book in one hand.

“This is for you.”

“What are you doing?” He takes the book. The cover is black and white and at this point he suspects David is picking books with monochrome covers on purpose. A pair of old-fashioned women’s gloves sit on top of a table. The title is written across the bottom in block letters: ‘Fingersmith.’ 

“I wanted David to know what he might lose.” Her voice is matter-of-fact, but the last word trembles slightly. If he hadn’t known her for twenty years, he might have missed it.

“You don’t...you didn’t have to do that.” He runs his fingers down the cover of the book. “My happiness isn’t your responsibility.”

“No. It’s not.” She tilts her head up to look at him. There’s something in the back of her eyes, defiance, regret. “We made each other just happy enough for a long time. You chose the fact that we were mostly comfortable over the things that weren’t right for you. So if I can do something now to make you truly happy, I will do it.”

He doesn’t know what to say to that. He folds her into a hug and they stand together for a long moment before Rachel pushes him away gently. “I’ve got sandwiches to prepare.” 

As she walks away, Patrick looks at the book she brought him from David. There’s a bookmark near the back. He flips to the marked page, David has circled a section in pencil.

_“But, here was a curious thing. The more I tried to give up thinking of her, the more I said to myself, 'She's nothing to you', the harder I tried to pluck the idea of her out of my heart, the more she stayed there.”_

Patrick rests his fingertips on the open page as he fights the urge to run across the street. It’s a crack in David’s defenses but David won’t thank him for wanting to talk with just hours to go until his opening. A group of customers comes into the coffee shop as the lunch rush begins and Patrick busies himself taking their orders and making coffee.

As the lunch crowd thins out, he looks across the street to see that the line outside the bookshop stretches down the block. He imagines how David must be panicking at the unexpected popularity of his store and he hopes Stevie is there to help calm him down. 

It’s five o’clock before he’s able to leave the coffee shop. As he’d hoped, lots of customers are making their way to the cafe after shopping at the bookstore. Patrick spots several David’s signature black and white shopping bags among his afternoon clientele. 

When he finally makes it across the street to the bookstore, it’s still busy, people are browsing through David’s carefully curated shelves and there’s a line at the register where Stevie is working the till. He looks for David and spots him on the far side of the store, a book in one hand as he talks to a customer. 

David’s vision has come to life in the store. The shelves are filled with books on home decor and cooking, interspersed with displays of lotions and bath products. It’s cozy and elegant, a place to linger and relax.

He walks over to the counter to talk Stevie. “Has it been this busy all day?”

Stevie glances at him as she rings up the next customer. “Worse. It’s thinned out a lot.”

He takes a stack of books from the customer, holding out top book in the pile for Stevie to scan before he puts it into a bag. “David must be happy.”

“I guess. I think he’s annoyed that he didn’t get to have a soft launch.”

He laughs. “This is a lot more like a grand opening.”

He helps Stevie ring up more customers until the line is down to a couple of people. Stevie nudges him with her elbow. “You should go talk to him.” Across the room, David is shelving some displaced books. Patrick makes his way over to him, chewing on his bottom lip, as he tries to push away the nerves he’s feeling about talking to David for the first time in three days.

“Hey.”

David’s dark eyes meet his and a shock runs through him. “Hi.”

David shelves the last of the books and turns to face him. “I thought maybe you weren’t coming.”

“I said I would.”

“Yeah.” David looks away, he’s playing with the rings on his right hand. “That hasn’t meant much, in the past.”

“David…” At the counter, Stevie is helping the last customer. “If I say I’m going to do something, I do it.”

“That’s what Rachel said.” David’s eyes meet his, warm and familiar. Patrick can see the doubt inside them.

“What else did she say?”

David’s eyes are bright. “She said that letting you go would be the biggest mistake I ever made.” David laughs flatly to himself. “Which is saying something, given some of the mistakes I’ve made.”

David’s expression turns serious. “She said you’re the best person she knows and if you weren’t gay she would have spent the rest of her life with you.”

“Just a minor detail.” He grins at David, relieved to see his lips curve up in response.

Stevie finishes with the last customer and locks the front door behind them. She grabs her bag from behind the counter and comes to stand beside David. “You better make good on that wine you promised me.”

“One bottle.”

“Three.” Stevie slips the strap of her bag over her head and puts her hands on her hips.

“Two. Final offer.” David stares her down until she gives in. 

“Fine. Have a good night, you two.”

The door closes behind Stevie and silence envelopes them. Something crackles and hisses in the air, he takes a half step towards David. He longs to push him up against the shelf, to pin him there among the cookbooks while he kisses him hard and deep. He’s chasing that thought when David’s hand cups his neck and he’s the one being manhandled backwards.

“Oof.” His back hits the shelf. A book is digging into his back but all he cares about is that David’s lips are on his, his other hand gripping his hip. He buries his hands in David’s hair, feeling him tense in protest for a second before he surrenders to the sensation. The jabbing pain in his shoulder is getting worse. He tries to squirm away without David noticing, but he pulls away.

“Is this okay?”

“Yeah. Yes. It’s just not very comfortable.”

“Oh.” David grabs his hand and pulls him into the backroom, giving him a soft shove so he lands on the worn leather couch. “How about now? Is this more comfortable?” David puts his hands on his hips as he stares down at him.

“It’s better, but…”

“But?” There’s a challenge in David’s voice.

“You’re kind of far away.” 

David growls at him and straddles his lap. “Is this better?”

Patrick tips his head back to look him in the eye. “Much.” 

David’s mouth is on his as soon as he gets the word out, pressing him back, his larger frame surrounding him. It makes him feel both vulnerable and safe. A whine escapes from the back of his throat and David kisses him harder. 

He slips his hands under David’s sweater, searching for bare skin. It feels like months since he’s been able to touch David. David’s sweater catches at his hands, he growls in frustration and David flashes a grin and with one smooth motion he pulls the sweater up and over his head, tossing it onto the couch beside them. With just David’s t-shirt to cope with, Patrick tugs eagerly at the bottom of the shirt, freeing it so that his hands can find David’s bare skin.

David braces one hand at the corner of his shoulder, running his nose along Patrick’s hairline, nuzzling at his ear. Patrick’s eyes drift closed and with one quick motion David’s teeth find his earlobe, forcing a gasp from his lips.

Every movement of David’s body brushes their cocks together, sending shock waves through him. He tries to arch into the touch, to find more friction, but David has him pinned. He groans as David brushes against him again and David smiles into their kiss. Patrick tosses his head back against the couch and David nips and kisses down his neck.

“You’re the worst.” He mumbles the words, he’s losing his ability to speak coherently. “God, I missed you.”

“Me too.” David pulls back far enough to look him in the eyes. “Patrick…”

“Don’t you dare stop.” His hands grip David’s hips through the layers of his pants. “We’ll talk about everything later, but I want this first.” 

“Mmm.” David’s hand presses onto his swollen cock. The sudden pressure makes him moan as he tries to buck his hips into the touch. He whines as David’s hand moves away, but then his hands are at the edge of his jeans, releasing the button and the zipper, freeing his cock.

He forces his own hands to the fastening of David’s pants, his fingers are clumsy and uncooperative but he undoes them so he can take David’s cock in his hand.

He’s never felt like this before. He’d never known he could feel like this. He lifts his hips, searching for the pressure of David’s hand. David’s mouth finds his neck, the prickle of pain as he sucks a mark into his skin makes his cock twitch in David’s hand. David grinds his hips, capturing them both in one large hand. He moves them together, rolling his hips again and again. The pressure builds inside Patrick and with a cry he comes, David following seconds later. 

Head thrown back against the couch, he can feel the spot on his neck tingling even as the rest of his body feels like he’s floating. He pants out a couple of deep breaths. Distantly, he hears David grabs some tissues to clean them up. David presses his forehead to Patrick’s. “Hi.”

“Hi.” He brings his hands up to cup David’s face, giving him a slow, sweet kiss. “We have a lot to talk about.” David tries to look away but Patrick holds him firmly.

“I saw the photos.” 

David’s face twists and he looks away. “You said.”

“Sebastien shouldn’t have done that to you. He had no right.” He’s angry again. He pushes it away. David slides off of him so they’re side by side on the couch. He hunches forward, hands clasped together.

“He said I deserved it.” David plays with his rings, spinning them around. “Maybe I did.”

“David…” He cups the back of David’s neck and David leans into his touch. He wishes he’d punched Sebastien when he’d had the chance.

“He wants to do a retrospective. Now that I look so ‘healthy’ he wants before and after shots, recreating the poses he did before.”

“I hope you told him to go to hell.” David tilts his head imperceptibly as Patrick’s fingers tease the hair at the back of his neck.

David doesn’t answer the question. “Why did you come back?”

“I never wanted to leave in the first place.” 

“Okay, but why?” David’s voice is uneven and he sounds confused. 

“Don’t you know what you do to me?” 

David smirks. “I know what I just did to you, yes.”

“I don’t mean that.” He laughs and tightens his grip on David’s neck. He pulls David close so he can whisper in his ear. “You make me happy, David.”

David’s body is completely still. He shakes his head like a small child refusing to eat their broccoli. “You can’t say things like that.”

“I’m going to say things like that until you believe me.”

David throws his head back and closes his eyes. “Ugh. Rachel was right about you.”

“Oh?”

“She said you’d never give up so easily.” 

He thinks about all the times he refused to give up on his relationship with Rachel, even though it had felt wrong and he couldn’t figure out why. “She’s known me for a long time.”

“Yeah. She said some other things about you as well.”

“Like what?” He can only imagine the things Rachel might have said to David.

“I think it’s best if we keep that between us.” 

“David…”

“She said…” David clears his throat and stares down at his hands. “...she said you weren’t sleeping.” It’s his turn to be still. David continues talking, squeezing the words out reluctantly as though it hurts to say them. “She said I might hurt you.”

Beneath his hand he can feel the heat of David’s skin, the prickle of the short hairs on the back of his neck. He’s frozen, afraid to move for fear of scaring David away. “Yeah.” He coughs to clear the lump in his throat. “But you didn’t. Not really. Not yet.”

“It’s just...I’m usually the one who gets hurt. No one has ever cared enough for me to hurt them.” David’s words brush against his skin, stinging as they land.

“Well. I guess that means that I am different from everyone else.” He squeezes the back of David’s neck, drawing him close. David follows and Patrick leans back against the armrest, David’s weight is heavy and comforting against him. He presses a kiss to the top of David’s head. “Do you know what she told me?”

“Mmm?” David’s fingers toy with a button on his shirt.

“She said I should stop trying to plan everything and see where it takes me.” He scratches softly at the hair at the back of David’s neck, feeling him shiver.

“And?” 

“And maybe that’s something we can do together.”

David’s hand stops moving. “I would like that very much.”

***

Patrick finishes piping the last swirl of icing and slides the giant heart-shaped chocolate chip cookie onto a plate. Rachel takes a sip of her coffee as she watches him from her seat at the end of the counter. 

“You never baked me a four-month anniversary cookie.” She raises her eyebrows in a mock challenge. 

“That’s because we were fifteen and it would have ruined my rep as a high school jock.” His friends on the baseball team would have teased him to no end if he’d baked a giant cookie for Rachel. If only they could see him now.

“You had the lead in Grease that year.”

“And those disco dance moves only solidified my athletic status.”

He grins at her and she grins back. There are footsteps on the stairs and David appears in the doorway, yawning. Patrick kisses him hello, and David nuzzles the side of his neck as his arms come around him like a fuzzy octopus.

“Happy four-month anniversary, David.” He puts his hands on David’s hips, pulling him close, relishing the lazy press of David’s body against his. 

“Is there coffee?” David mumbles the words into Patrick’s neck.

“This is a coffee shop, so yes, there’s coffee.” He reluctantly disentangles himself from the drape of David’s arms and begins making David’s macchiato. “I made you something.” He nods at the cookie.

David grimaces at him. “Don’t you think we’re tempting fate?” 

Patrick clenches his jaw, worried. There’s an easiness to their relationship now, but every so often some reminder of the past spooks David. He pours the espresso over the caramel sauce and looks up, a crease between his eyebrows. David laughs back at him. “Because at this rate, you’re going to have to make me a three-tier cake for our six-month anniversary.”

“Whatever you want, baby.” He sets the coffee in front of David, who rolls his eyes at the endearment even as he breaks the corner off of the cookie. 

“Hey, listen to this.” Rachel looks up from her phone where she’s been studiously ignoring them. 

“_Numerous lawsuits have been filed against photographer Sebastien Raine, after multiple complaints that recent photographs were taken and displayed without the permission of their subjects. Raine’s recent exhibition, which critics called derivative and uninspired, closed abruptly on Wednesday a week after it opened._”

“Aw, it was nice of Sebastien to get us an anniversary present.” He tries to steal a piece of David’s cookie, only to have David bat his hand away.

“It’s what he deserves.” David’s words are indistinct around the mouthful of cookie.

“Yeah it is.” He can’t stop himself from leaning over the counter to kiss David again. “In the end, I think we all got what we deserved.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fingersmith is by Sarah Waters. I had picked the books for the story before I searched for the covers, so it was a happy coincidence that they all have monochrome covers in David's color palette.
> 
> Thanks to everyone who read to the end and to everyone who made such lovely comments. This fic officially pushes me over the 250,000 word mark, which is completely astounding to me!

**Author's Note:**

> Most of the recipes referenced in the story can be found on Pinterest or other corners of the Internet.


End file.
